I Would Give the World to You
by hautecontre
Summary: Sometimes the end is just the beginning, and "happily ever after" is just a pipe dream. This is an attempt to set things "right" for Blam after the series finale. Not Klaine friendly.
1. Past and Present as Prologue

APRIL 2016

"It'll be great seeing you again, Ryder. I'm looking forward to it. Till then. Bye." Blaine put his cell phone back in his pocket.  
"Who was that, dear?" shouted Kurt from the kitchen of their apartment.  
"That was Ryder Lynn. He's coming to New York the weekend after next to visit colleges. He wanted to know if he could meet up with me and have dinner while he's here."  
"So when are you meeting?"  
"Monday night before he leaves on Tuesday."  
"Wait, no. You can't. We're hosting Monday night potluck that night."  
"Huh? When did this happen? We normally host it the second Monday of the month, not the third."  
"Kitty asked me to switch because she and Artie had to deal with a bunch of exams the following week."  
"But you never told me."  
"Sure I did. I mentioned it at the start of the semester when they asked me."  
"That was three months ago! Did you expect me to remember?"  
"I'm sorry. I forgot, okay? But can't you reschedule?"  
"No, not really. He's going to be busy visiting Columbia, NYU, and a few other schools until Monday, and then he's heading back to Ohio on Tuesday. Monday night's the only time he has free."  
"Fine, whatever. Enjoy your New Directions mini-reunion. Just know that I'm going to make you the scapegoat if the potluck turns into a fiasco."

AUGUST 2017

"For the last time, Hummel, the casting directors of Broadway are not conspiring against you because of your sexuality or your appearance!" shouted a clearly exasperated Santana.  
"Then why do I keep getting shut out of auditions, even when I'm far more qualified than any of the other candidates? Most of the time, I'm one of the only people auditioning who's even been to a conservatory, let alone one as prestigious as NYADA." That last bit came out with as elitist a tone as one might expect from Kurt Hummel.  
"Look, Kurt—" started Blaine, trying to defuse the situation. However, his best friend decided to lob a new grenade into the field of battle.  
"The problem isn't your appearance, Kurt. It's your voice."  
"And what the hell is that supposed to mean? I've been trained at the best musical theatre program in New York. Clearly my voice is up to Broadway standards."  
"You're right, it would totally be up to Broadway standards. But where are the roles you're going to sing?"  
"What do you think I've been auditioning for, Sam?"  
"Parts you have no business singing, Kurt. You were envious of Blaine when he got cast as Tony in West Side Story, but the truth is no casting director who knows what he or she is doing should even think about letting you sing that part."  
"Oh, really, Sam? And when did you earn your Equity card? When did you become the expert in all things Broadway?"  
Sam snorted in response, clearly not intimidated by Kurt's putdown attempt. "I'm not an expert in how Broadway works. But I am getting my degree in music education, and I'm working with a lot of developing voices. And the single biggest no-no of working with voices is that you never put them in roles that they're not capable of singing properly."  
"I am perfectly capable of singing Tony."  
"Maybe you have all the notes in your range, Kurt, but the fact is you're a countertenor, and Tony is written for a tenor. You might be able to sing the part once or twice, but night after night, it would damage your voice."  
"So what am I supposed to do?"  
"Well, that's the problem. There just aren't enough roles for countertenor—and the folks at NYADA should have known that. I'm amazed that no one tried to steer you into the opera program. That's where the demand for countertenors is, not in musical theater."  
"If I wanted to become an opera singer, there's a hundred schools I could have applied to. But I have no interest in singing opera. I want to sing on Broadway."  
"I wish you the best of luck with that, Kurt. But we both know it's going to be a tough slog unless you're willing to compromise."  
"Thank you for your valuable input, Mr. Evans," sneered Kurt, "but now I need to get ready for an audition." With that, he haughtily turned around and headed toward his bedroom.  
Blaine exhaled slightly once he heard the door to his bedroom slam. "I don't know if it helped much, Sam, but thank you anyways for talking to him. He needs to hear it from someone other than me, even if he doesn't believe us."  
"It didn't do a damn thing, and you know it, Hobbit," supplied Santana, not so helpfully. "Broadway has always been Hummel's great white whale, and he will do anything and everything to get there. He won't even care if anybody gets hurt in the process—so long as he gets there, nothing else will really matter."  
Although Blaine hoped Santana was wrong in her judgment, a large part of him knew she was probably correct.

JUNE 2018

Blaine looked at his phone and saw a picture of Nightbird and Blond Chameleon filling his screen. He gleefully accepted the call: "Hey, Sammy! How are things going?"  
"Hey, Blaine." Immediately Blaine heard something off in Sam's tone. He was always at least cheerful, if not downright exuberant or even audibly hyperactive. This was new, and it set off alarms in Blaine's head.  
"Are you all right, Sam? Is everything OK?"  
"Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something. Maybe more like needed."  
"What is it, Sam? You know you can tell me anything."  
"Well. . . ."  
"BLAINE! Can you come in here?"  
Blaine couldn't believe the bad luck in Kurt's timing. "Hold on a sec, Sam. Kurt, I'm on the phone with Sam! Can this wait a few minutes?"  
"No, it can't. I have to deal with this right away!"  
"Fine. I'll be there in a second. Hey, Sam, can I call you back in a bit?"  
"Eh, it's not urgent. We can talk another night. Thanks, B. Later." The weight in Blaine's gut got a lot heavier. He headed over to where Kurt called him from their bedroom. "So what's the big emergency?"  
"You have to help me pick out an outfit for tomorrow! I'm headed up to New Haven to see Quinn."  
"That's your big emergency? Seriously? Sam sounded really strange, and now I'm worried about him."  
"He'll be fine. He always lands on his feet. But you've got to help me—I haven't seen Quinn in ages, and I want to make a good impression."  
"Okay, Kurt. What's going on? What aren't you telling me?"  
"Why do you think I'm hiding something?"  
"Because of your tells. Let me guess—you're auditioning up there while you're at it."  
"Fine. I'm auditioning."  
"For what?"  
"Antony in Sweeney Todd."  
"Oh my god, it literally is in one ear and out the other with you when it comes to stuff you don't want to hear."  
"Blah, blah, blah, wrong vocal type. This is Sondheim we're talking about. And there's a chance of the production moving to New York."  
"Unbelievable. Sam's acting weird, and this isn't going to help. I just hope I can get a hold of him."  
"And what about me?"  
"What about you, Kurt?"  
"What should I wear?"  
"Pick something comfortable. That way you won't be miserable on the train when you ride home after not getting the part because you can't sing it properly."  
"That's no way to talk to me, Blaine."  
"Well, maybe if you listened to the advice people give you once in a while, you wouldn't piss so many people off. Right now, I've got to reach Sam."

JUNE 2018 (The next day)

"Kurt, I have to head to Lima right now."  
"Why? What has Sam done this time?"  
"I don't know, Kurt. I would have found out last night, but somebody needed fashion advice for a pointless audition."  
"Fine. Go be with Sam. When will you be home?"  
"I don't know. It depends."  
"Depends? Depends on what?"  
"On how he's doing."  
"And what about the start of your rehearsals for Les Misérables next week?"  
"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it, Kurt. Right now, I just need to get to Ohio. I'll talk to you later. Bye." He disconnected the call mindlessly, not even waiting for Kurt to say goodbye. All that was running through Blaine's head was an endless loop of the message Sam left on Blaine's phone during the night: "I'm sorry, Blaine. I'm so, so sorry." Blaine knew where the quote was from—and that Sam was telling him something vital. What was wrong, Blaine couldn't figure out, and Sam didn't say; but all he knew was that it was critical that he get to Sam as soon as he could.

SEPTEMBER 2019

"He finally said yes, Sam!"  
"That's great, Blaine. But I thought you were already married. Or wait—are you renewing your vows? Can I be your best man this time?"  
"No, Sam, we're not renewing vows. But there is a role I'd like you to fill."  
"Oh? What's that?"  
"How does Godfather sound?"  
"You've made me an offer I can't refuse," said Sam, clearly doing his best Brando impersonation. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"  
"Yes! We're going to have a kid!"  
"That's cool! Don't worry, Blaine! I'll be here for whatever you need. And your kid is going to be so sick of their Uncle Sam that you'll ask me not to spoil her so often!"  
"Never, Sammy. You'll be the best uncle of all time—and you know I never get tired of having you around. Even if you will spoil our future kid rotten."  
"So what do I need to do?"  
"Just promise me you'll look after her if anything ever happens to me and Kurt."  
"Heaven forbid. But I will look after him or her as if my own. I promise you that."  
"Thanks, Sam. You have no idea how much it means to me to hear you say that."

JUNE 2021

"Isn't there anybody else we can call? What about Carole?"  
"She's with your dad on his reelection campaign. We can't ask her to disappear for a month during the middle of that."  
"What about Mercedes? She has a sister!"  
"Yeah, who's about three years younger. There's no way she'd have had much to do with raising her."  
"But does it have to be Sam?"  
"Well, who else is available and knows how to handle babies? Sam was already looking after Stevie and Stacie before they were even six months old. It'll be fine. Trust me."  
"It's not you I'm worried about," muttered Kurt darkly.

DECEMBER 2021

"I'm sure Blaine would agree to do it if I asked him."  
"So it's settled then. You'll ask Blaine to step aside as best man, and we can go ahead and confirm the booking for the wedding at our church as planned."  
"Not a chance, Mr. Bedford."  
"Sam! But you just said Blaine would be fine with it."  
"Yes, I did, Morgan," said Sam, turning toward his fiancée. "He would do it, if I asked him to. But the thing is, I would never, ever ask him to do that for me."  
"I don't see what the problem is. You're doing it to give the woman you're going to spend the rest of your life with the wedding of her dreams. Surely your friend would understand."  
"The problem isn't Blaine, sir. It's me."  
"What?"  
"Well, what you've got to understand about Blaine is that he's been abandoned by pretty much every member of his family and just about everyone he's ever cared for. And in spite of that, he's still one of the kindest, most decent, most generous people I've ever met. And since we became friends, he's been my rock—the one person I knew I could always count on to be in my corner. No matter how bleak or desperate things got, he was always there. He's not just my best man for the wedding, he's the best man I know, period."  
"That's nice, but what does that have to do with the wedding?"  
"It's pretty simple, Mr. Bedford. How do I look myself in the mirror after telling my best friend that he can't be in my wedding party because my fiancée wants to hold her wedding in her family's church, and their bigoted congregation is too closed-minded to allow my best friend to be at my side where he belongs?"  
"That's uncalled for!" bellowed Mr. Bedford?  
"No? Then how would you explain it?"  
Morgan tried to jump in to defuse the situation. "Sam, it's just that our church is very conservative. They wouldn't be very comfortable with a married homosexual standing in front of them."  
"So what? If he were celibate that would be okay?"  
Morgan harrumphed.  
"Well, I guess I have my answer. But the fact remains, I'm not asking him to bow out. You're going to have to make a choice, Morgan. I want to give the world to you, but I'm not going to betray my dearest friend in the world to do it."  
"But why should I have to give up on my dreams just so your friend can be in our wedding?"  
"You don't have to give up anything, Morgan—you just need to be willing to stand up for what's right."  
"But what he's doing isn't right! It's an abomination!"  
"Is that what you really think, Morgan? You've met him, you've had dinner with him—heck, we've even gone to football games together. What's so awful about him?"  
"I just don't think he's a good influence on you. Once you spend more time with my family and our community you'll see that?"  
"Not a good influence? You're joking, right? Without his 'influence,' I'd probably be flipping burgers somewhere, if I was lucky. I'm the person I am today because of him. So tell me, how is hanging out with the cool kids at your congregation going to help me more than my best friend?"  
"Don't you see? What he's doing is wicked. You shouldn't be associating with those people."  
"'Those people,' Morgan?"  
"You know what I mean."  
"Yeah, I guess I do, but I wish I didn't."  
"What's that supposed to mean?"  
"It means that I'm done," said Sam, getting out of his chair to face both of Mr. Bedford and his now ex-fiancée. "It means I'm not getting married to someone who thinks I should abandon my best friend just because of the person he loves. Maybe someday you'll find the person who'll stand in front of your congregation and not say a word about their bigotry. But that won't be me. Goodbye, Morgan."

APRIL 2023

Blaine had just returned to the living room after putting Finn and Sammy down for their afternoon naps when he heard the door open. Kurt burst in excitedly, clearly eager to share some big news. Blaine wasn't sure what the news was, but he had a feeling it was going to make the conversation he wanted to have a lot more challenging.  
"Hi, Kurt. How was your day?"  
"It was amazing! I got the most wonderful news, and I can't wait to tell you about it."  
"That's great, Kurt. But there's something we need to talk about first."  
Seeing Blaine's face, Kurt realized he'd have to wait a little. "What is it, Blaine?"  
"Well, I wanted to talk to you about me going back to work. Now that your show is about to close, I figured it was time for me to start auditioning again."  
"But this is where my news comes in," said Kurt eagerly. "I've just been cast as Cruella in a brand new musical adaptation of 101 Dalmatians. The rehearsals will start as soon as Virginia Woolf closes in June!"  
"Kurt, how could you do this? We agreed that I'd spend the first two years at home, and then you'd spend the next two years with them, until they were ready for preschool!"  
"I know, Blaine, but this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity! A lead role on Broadway written for a countertenor! There's no way I could pass it up!"  
"But you also shouldn't have tried to surprise me with the news like this! We should have discussed this first!"  
"What's to discuss?"  
"Well, what's going to happen to Finn and Sam?"  
"You can stay with them, right? Or we can put them in daycare."  
"And what was I doing staying at home for the last two years, if we're just going to ship them off to daycare. This isn't fair, Kurt."  
"No, Blaine. What's not fair is you standing in the way of my career, just like you've always done."  
"What are you talking about?"  
"I'm not going to sit by and play second fiddle while your career takes off. That's not what I signed up for, and that's not how things are going to be. I've accepted the part, and that's it. Discussion over." With that, he strode out of the apartment into the Manhattan afternoon. And deep down, Blaine knew that his relationship with Kurt had just become a lot more treacherous than it had been just a few days before.


	2. Last Tangle in Lima

LATE SUMMER 2015

"Are you sure you can't stay in town a bit longer? Like the rest of your life, maybe?"  
"Sorry, Sam," Blaine laughed. "But my life right now is in New York. There isn't much in the way of local theater here in Lima these days."  
"You could go to Columbus—or Cincinnati. Come on, dude, it's not the same here without you."  
"I know what you mean. Every day I wish you didn't hate it there so much."  
"The only times I hated it were when I had to be there on my own. I loved exploring it with you."  
"Me, too, Sam. Me too."  
And with that, they fell into a comfortable silence, as they gazed lazily on the night sky. They were huddled together in a messy tangle of limbs that would give even the most talented contortionist a headache. But for Sam and Blaine, so used to completely obliterating the concept of personal space between them, it was just another aspect of their unconventional friendship.  
After a few more minutes Sam finally broke the silence that had settled over them. "I'll let you go back to New York, I guess."  
"Why that's so very generous of you, Sam,"  
"Ha ha. But I'm serious, Blaine. I can't say I'm thrilled with the prospect of having to break up Blam again, but I understand New York is what you want, so you need to go. But first you have to promise me a few things.  
"Of course, Sam. What did you have in mind?"  
"Wait, you're just going to agree with whatever it is, without even hearing it first. What if I told you that you need to ditch the hair gel?"  
"I know you'd never take advantage of our friendship just for your own personal ends, Sam. And besides, if you did, I'd just have to share with the world exactly what Sam Evans looks like in a Cheerio outfit."  
"You lied to me. You said you deleted that photo."  
Blaine smiled beatifically. "I never lied to you. You asked me to delete the photo from my phone, and I did. You never said anything about cloud backups."  
"I hate you so much."  
"No, you don't."  
"You're right. I could never hate you. But seriously, there are a few things you need to do."  
"Like what."  
"For starters, don't forget who you are. You're not just Blaine Warbler, the kid from Dalton. You're also Nightbird, Blaine the class president and glee club leader, Blaine the comic geek, even Blaine the former Cheerio. And most important of all, you're Blaine Anderson, the best best friend Sam Evans—or any one else—could have."  
"Thanks, Sam. That means a lot."  
"I'm serious, B. You can't let all of those other parts of you be put away as if they were boxes stored in your attic just because Kurt hasn't gotten the image of you as the boy from Dalton out of his head. It takes too much energy to keep up an alter ego like that all the time, and it also means you can't really be yourself. Kurt didn't just marry the Warbler—he married the rest of you, too. Make sure he remembers that."  
"Okay, Sam, but—"  
"And while we're on the topic, number two: don't let Kurt call all the shots in your relationship this time. You keep giving in to whatever he wants because you think it will make things easier and keep him happy. But all it really does is make you his puppet. You have the right to want things, too. For example, don't be afraid to say you want to go back to a school that is a conservatory. Or to have kids someday. Or to go to Italy instead of France for your first big European vacation. DOn't be afraid to want things. You deserve that, Blaine, more than anybody I know."  
Blaine sighed. "I know I give in too often. But most of the time I don't mind what he chooses. Really. But the times I do mind, I'll make sure to let him know, OK?"  
"That's all I ask. Well, maybe not. There's still one more thing—and it's a biggie."  
"It's not `no gel,' right?"  
Sam frowned a bit at the lame joke. "This is serious, Blaine. I need you to promise me that you won't ever forget that I'm here for you, whatever you need. You don't have to fight your battles alone. Even if the rest of the world thinks you're crazy, I'll be there at your side, tilting at windmills with you, if that's what you want."  
"Thank you, Sam. How could I say no to a request like that?"  
"Well, you forgot before, when Kurt broke off your engagement. You tried to bottle all the pain and hurt up and handle it alone, and look where and what it got you."  
The words were like a sucker punch to Blaine's gut. "I'm sorry, Sam. I should never—"  
"Don't apologize. You were in a rough spot. But I wish I could have spared you all the heartache that came afterward. Putting you back together again was one of the hardest things I've ever had to. I don't want to have to do that another time. I don't know if either of us would survive that."  
Blaine was close to falling apart now. "Sam—"  
"Nope, B. No crying. If you feel that way again, you call me right away. Night or day. I don't care what the time is, or where I am. If you need me, you get in touch however you can, and I'll be there for you."  
"Thank you, Sammy. You have no idea how much you've meant to me these last few years."  
"Pay me back by having a happy life out there in that awful, miserable, rude city."  
"Absolutely."  
"And I wanted to give you something," said Sam as he reached back to the side table next to where they were huddled. He pulled out a small, slender box. Blaine could see that—thankfully—it was not a ring box, but he wasn't sure what it could be. Carefully lifting the lid, he was rather flummoxed to find a key inside the box.  
"A key? To what?"  
"To this house. I hope you never have to use it, but I wanted you to have it, so that you never forget that there will always be somewhere you can go. I want you and Kurt to be happy, but I've seen you two together. I worry about what Kurt will do. If he ever does anything stupid—and knowing Kurt, it's a matter of when, not if—"  
"Sam," said Blaine crossly, "that's my husband."  
"Yes, but he's also still the disgruntled and jaded kid from Lima, and you need to be ready in case history repeats itself. As I said—I hope you never, ever have to use that key. But just know that you can, whenever you need it. You don't have to ask if you can; mi casa es su casa, and it always will be."  
"So, I'll promise to do all of that—but you have to make the same promise. Don't hide your troubles from me. If it hurts you, it hurts me. And I won't let anything or anyone come between our friendship. If you need me, tell me, and I'll be there. Just let me know. Promise?"  
"You, sir, have yourself a deal. Put it there, dude."  
"Deal. Now can we go back to enjoying the quiet? I won't be able to do this too often when I'm in New York, and certainly not with my best friend at my side. I want to enjoy this while I still can."  
"Sure thing, Blaine." They didn't say anything else for the rest of the evening, nor did they need to.


	3. Always the Last to Know

APRIL 2016

Blaine and Ryder had just finished their entrées at Blaine's favorite Italian restaurant, a few blocks away from where he lived with Kurt. While they were waiting for coffee and dessert, they picked up their conversation about schools and life in New York.  
"So how's NYU treating you?"  
"It's been pretty awesome, actually. I'm really thankful that they admitted me after the fiasco at NYADA."  
"But you're still doing music?"  
"Why not? It's something I really love, and I can't see giving it up altogether. But I also want to be able to have some other options, so I'm also pursuing a degree in education—that way I can teach, too."  
"Teach music, like Sam and Mr. Shue?"  
"Maybe. But I might also want to teach foreign languages. I love French and Italian. Or I might teach elementary school and do general education. I don't know yet. But it's nice to have the choice, you know?"  
"Yeah, I get it. I'm pretty sure I know what I want to do, though."  
"What's that?"  
"I'm going to become either a psychologist or a neurobiologist. I want to help beat dyslexia, so that nobody else has to go through what I did as a child."  
"That's great, Ryder. No music, though?"  
"Nah, I'll still do shows and stuff, or maybe be in a band. But it's going to be a hobby, not my career."  
The conversation got briefly interrupted by their dessert orders—cannoli for Ryder and tiramisu for Blaine—before Ryder turned the conversation back to Blaine.  
"So tell me, Mr. Shue wannabe—do you think it's realistic for you to finish a double degree in three years? That sounds like a brutal schedule?"  
"Eh, it's not so bad. Especially since I'm not doing twenty-three extracurriculars at a time."  
Ryder chuckled. "Yeah, that would be a bit of a drain on your time. But how do you have time to do anything else trying to get all those classes done?"  
"The secret is to plan some free time like it were a class—write it into your schedule every week like it was a class or a job. So I have Monday and Friday evenings 'pencilled in' as free every week, no matter how busy I get."  
"That doesn't seem like a lot."  
"It's enough for now, and it'll be worth it when I'm done a year early. College is expensive."  
"No kidding. Especially at NYU. My dad saw the numbers and his eyes bugged out."  
"Yeah, Kurt's not looking forward to paying back his tuition bills. At least Vogue's promised that they're going to give him a job after he graduates."  
Blaine beamed at this, but Ryder didn't share his enthusiasm. "Huh."  
"Something wrong with that?"  
"No, no, nothing like that."  
"You're looking at me funny, like you're trying to solve a hard math problem or something."  
Ryder paused, as his expression changed to the stereotypical "deer caught in headlights" look.  
"Yeah, I guess I am."  
"So what's so hard to figure out?"  
"To be honest, you and Kurt. I just don't get it."  
"What do you mean, you don't get it?"  
"Well, I mean I've seen you two together—at both of Mr. Shue's weddings, when Kurt came to town when his dad got his news and when we said goodbye to New Directions, and I've just never seen what you have. I don't see why you think you guys are going to have a 'happily ever after' when it doesn't even look like you two really get along."  
"That's nonsense, Ryder. Of course we get along. Kurt's my soulmate, after all."  
Now Ryder looked like he was sucking on a particularly sour lemon. "Ugh. Can I be honest with you, Blaine?"  
"Of course."  
"Kurt's not your soulmate. He's your first love. There's a huge difference between the two."  
"Sure, but he's both."  
"No, he's not. The problem is that you've been so wrapped up in pursuing Kurt that you can't see the difference."  
"So, if he's not my soulmate, does that mean I have to scour the world for the rest of my life to find the person I'm supposed to be with?"  
"No, 'cause you've already found him."  
"Oh? And who's my mysterious Prince Charming?"  
"He's tall, blond, has killer abs, and is fluent in Na'vi."  
"Sam?! Are you kidding me?"  
"Not at all. The thing about soulmates—they don't have to be romantic partners. They can be, and probably most of them are, but a soulmate isn't necessarily the person you're supposed to marry. It's someone who understands you better than you do. It's someone who wants you to be the best person you can, not for their sake, but for yours. It's someone who you always want by your side, because just having them around makes the world a better, less scary place. It's someone who makes your life have a before and an after that starts when you meet them."  
"That sounds like Kurt to me."  
"He's not. If he were, he wouldn't have abandoned you when he moved to New York after high school, and he wouldn't have broken off your relationship so many times. He might have been the person you're destined to marry, but there's no way in the world he's your soulmate."  
"But why do you think Sam's my soulmate."  
"Have you guys ever watched yourselves together?"  
"Can't really do that, Ryder, unless I have an out-of-body experience one of these days. Or maybe if we use the puppets again."  
"No. No creepy puppets."  
"Fine. But I'm still not seeing it."  
"Seriously? Then let me tell you what I see.  
"Half the time, you and Sam were off in your own little world. Even when you're surrounded by everybody, you carve out your own little space where you can be yourselves, and let the rest of the world go by. The two of you know each other so well that you're helping the other out before the rest of us even realize there's a problem in the first place. The two of you hate not being together. The last few months of senior year, I don't think you were ever more than about three feet apart. I still don't know how you're dealing with having him in Lima while you're here in New York. It must be killing the two of you."  
"We get by—lots of text messaging, Skype calls and Google Chats. And we try to find the time to get together in person as often as we can. But it's tough with him teaching and me being so busy."  
"But that's proving my point. You guys will do whatever it takes to keep your friendship going, because you can't imagine not being in each other's lives, can you?"  
"This is silly, Ryder. Of course I can't imagine being without my best friend."  
"It goes way beyond that, Blaine. After the lockout, the two of you were clinging to one another so tightly that we would have needed the jaws of life to separate you—and that was with Sam's girlfriend at the time standing right next to you guys. And while you might not want to admit it, the truth is, if Kurt had been there, he'd have been standing on the outside looking in at the two of you as well."  
A whispered cry for mercy escaped from Blaine's lips: "Please stop, Ryder. Please."  
This brought Ryder up short. "Blaine, I'm—"  
"No, don't apologize. But just tell me—what do you want me to do? Confess that I love my best friend more than my husband? It's true, you know. I go to sleep every night wondering what it would be like to have the person I love most at my side, and knowing it can never, ever happen? And feel like I'm betraying both of them because I'm too selfish to let go? Is that what you want to hear?"  
Ryder exhaled, reeling from Blaine's admission. "Wow. I guess it's one thing to know—and another to hear someone actually say it out loud. It's courageous of you to say that, Blaine, and I promise you that no one will hear a word of this. Ever."  
"Thank you, Ryder."  
"But you also need to know that you have to stop blaming yourself. Love is complicated and messy and wonderful. If you're lucky enough to have two people in your life that you love so much, fight for them. Fight for them both."  
"And what happens if someday I have to choose between them?"  
"For your sake, I hope that day never comes. But if it does, you'll need to think long and hard about what you want in life, and make the choice that is best for you. Don't do it because it's what you think they'll want—do it because it's what you want."  
"I'll do my best."  
"That's all we can ever ask of ourselves. Now let's eat dessert and get out of here. It's my last night in New York, and there's still so much more I want to see."  
"Sounds good to me."


	4. Bun's (Buns?) in the Oven

MAY 2013

"You know, Blaine, we never did talk about having kids."  
"Well, we're still teenagers, and neither of us can get pregnant, so I didn't know it was something we needed to worry about right now."  
"Ha-ha. That's not what I meant. We talked about having kids with Quinn as a surrogate as a joke for the film, but is that something you want? I mean, like, ever?"  
"Sure I have. Someday I'd like to have a family, but not really anytime soon. I'd want to be able to be have finished college and be working professionally so that I could help support the whole family along with my partner. But I'd also want to be able to take some time off to be with the kids while they're young. I don't like the idea of sending them off to daycare as soon as they're able to crawl like some parents do."  
"Huh. I wouldn't have thought about doing that."  
"Really? You wouldn't want to spend a year or two raising them while they're young? It's one of the best parts—watching them experience all their firsts."  
"That would be pretty cool."  
"Isn't it? But it's also a tough job—probably tougher than any profession you could pursue. So you'd have to be willing to commit to it and stick with it, or else you'll just end up tearing your hair out after a day or two. Maybe less."  
"O ye of little faith. I'll show you. Just you wait until we have kids."  
"I look forward to watching you try to take care of an infant wearing Alexander McQueen. I'll make sure to have a camera handy so I can upload the video to YouTube."  
"You wouldn't dare."  
Blaine just chuckled. "Watch me."  
"Fine. But seriously, if we're going to do this, when? Right after college?"  
"That might be pushing it. Why don't we just wait until the time feels right. We'll both know when we're ready."  
"Okay. We'll see when the time comes." An odd look passed briefly over Kurt's face, but Blaine didn't notice.

SEPTEMBER 2019

"Really, Kurt? Are you sure you want this?"  
"Yes, Blaine! We're ready. We're getting along well, and we're both dong well career wise," replied Kurt. "It's time—and besides, Rachel's already agreed to be the surrogate. We have everything we need. Let's do this."  
"This is wonderful, Kurt! We're going to make awesome parents."  
"And now that we've made this decision, why don't we go celebrate our mature, sober decision? I was thinking" said Kurt, trailing off as he saw Blaine pull his phone out of his pocket and head toward the balcony. "Where are you going, Blaine?"  
"I've gotta let Sam and Cooper know. They're going to be so excited!" enthused Blaine as he stepped outside to make his calls."  
"Of course you do," muttered Kurt to himself. "Don't mind me," he called out to Blaine. "I'll just be in our bedroom waiting. Join me when you're finished."  
By the time Blaine had finished his calls, Kurt was long asleep.

LATE JUNE 2021

"Sam! You're here!" greeted Blaine, ushering Sam into the apartment before enveloping him in a ferocious bear hug.  
Sam smiled at his best friend. "It's great to see you again. Hey, Kurt! Are you both ready for the big day?"  
"We all are," squealed the voice of Rachel Berry, although Sam couldn't see her at first, as she was lying down on Blaine and Kurt's couch and hidden behind some tall pillows. She briefly looked at her watch before shouting. "Guys! I'm going to be late for my doctor's appointment. Why didn't you say anything? Jesse, help me up so we can get going!"  
Jesse sprang into action at Rachel's orders, guiding her to an upright position and then pulling her up to her feet. As Rachel waddled toward the door, Sam couldn't help but notice her enormous belly, swollen with the newborn she would soon deliver. Something started teasing Sam's brain, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what that was.  
"I hope you'll be staying for a while, Sam," said Rachel as she reached the door. Sam leaned down so she could place a kiss on his cheek without stretching. "We'll have to catch up before my delivery date!"  
"When are you due?"  
"Next Friday!"  
"So soon? Wow!"  
"I know, right? Well it's off to the doctor's for one last check-up. C'mon, Jesse." And with that, she left the apartment and headed for the lobby. As Sam went to close the door, he saw Rachel pause, placing her hand on the wall to support herself.  
"You okay?"  
"Sure, Sam. Just Finn kicking up a storm. Although I swear sometimes it feels like there must be two of them in there." And that nagging sensation was back. "See you later."  
"Sure, Rachel. Call me when you get home."  
"I will. Bye."  
"Bye." As he shut the door and turned to face Blaine and Kurt, everything finally slid into place. Two of them.  
"Dudes. You're holding back on me! When were you going to tell me that you're having twins?"  
Kurt did a spit take. "What? Rachel's not having twins. It's just one really big baby."  
Sam snorted. "Not a chance, Kurt. She's way too big for it to be just one baby, even if it were nine or ten pounds."  
"Oh, really. And when did you become a doctor?" sniffed Kurt.  
Blaine looked on uneasily as the tennis match continued. "I'm not a doctor. But I do remember my mother's pregnancy. They said everything you're saying now. The ultrasound didn't pick up that she was having twins until the very last few days. One of her friends had a husband who was an OB/GYN; he's the one who told her. We were all scrambling to get ready for two kids instead of one. It was rough."  
"Thanks for the cautionary tale, Sam, but we're all ready for the birth of Finn."  
"But what about his brother or sister?"  
"There isn't one, Sam!"  
"You wanna bet?"  
Finally blaine tried to step in, albeit meekly. "Guys. . . ."  
"What are the stakes?"  
"If I'm right, you name the second kid Sam—Samuel if it's a boy, and Samantha if it's a girl."  
"That's a pretty big request. So when you're proven wrong, you won't mind paying for Finn's first new big-kid bedroom set, right?"  
"Deal. Shake on it." Kurt reluctantly took the proffered hand.  
"C'mon guys, that's enough. Sam, why don't we put your stuff away, and then you can help me with the crib."  
"Sure thing. Lead on, Macduff!"

As it turned out, they didn't have long to wait at all. An hour later, Sam and Blaine could hear Kurt hysterically shouting "What?" at a pitch no man should ever be able to reach. "You're joking!"  
Blaine came running into the kitchen to investigate, followed closely by Sam. "Kurt? Are you okay?"  
"No, I'm not. Apparently Sam here is some sort of psychic."  
"What?" a puzzled Blaine answered.  
"I told you!" said Sam, as he raised his arms in a triumphant gesture.  
"Rachel's doctor found something weird in the ultrasound, so he went to repair the ultrasound He saw the second heartbeat. He said the babies must have shifted position, allowing the second heart to be detected."  
"That's pretty amazing, Sam!" enthused Blaine. "So, Kurt. Is the other child going to be Samuel or Samantha?"  
"Samuel," grumbled Kurt.  
"That's so cool!" said Sam as he high-fived Blaine. I'm going to be the best godfather to Finn and Sam, Jr.!"  
"Godfather? What are you talking about?"  
Uh-oh, thought Blaine. "Kurt, we talked about this. Since Rachel is going to be godmother, we agreed it was fair that I should ask Sam to be the godfather."  
"I don't remember this!"  
"You were too busy picking out color swatches for the nursery, I guess."  
"Guys!" interrupted Sam. "There's no need to worry about this right now. Not when we have something much more important to take care of!"  
"Like what?" asked Blaine. The manic glint in Sam's eye worried him.  
"Shopping! We need to get you guys ready for two little tykes!"  
At the word "shopping," Kurt showed his Pavlovian response to the idea, and started getting excited. The matching, glassy-eyed grins that both Kurt and Sam wore on their faces sent a shiver down their spine. If the two of them ever learned to get along, they would be absolutely terrifying together. Well at least he wouldn't have to find out any time soon, Blaine mused wistfully.

EARLY JULY 2021

"Hey, I got here as soon as I could," panted Sam, as he found Blaine in the neonatal unit.  
"Hey, Sam," whispered Blaine. "Your timing is perfect. They just brought Sam and Finn in a few minutes ago. I'm sorry I couldn't stay with you—I kind of had to be here to keep Kurt and Rachel from having a meltdown in the delivery room. They're together right now, if you want to go see them."  
"Nah, right now I'd rather be introduced to my namesake and his older brother."  
"Sure. The one on the left, that's Finn, and the one on the right is Sam. Say hi, boys." They wouldn't hear him, being on the other side of the plexiglass partition, but they did seem to raise their tiny fists in an approximation of a wave.  
"Hey, Finn! Hey, Sam! Good to meet you! I'm looking forward to spoiling you two rotten!" Then he turned to Blaine, throwing an arm around the smaller man's shoulder. "They're perfect, just like their dad."  
"Thanks, Sammy. I just can't believe I'm a father now."  
"Yes, you are, and you're going to be the best dad in the world. And someday I hope I'll be able to be just as awesome a dad as you'll be."  
"And you'll find the right person to settle down with, and you'll probably be an even better father. And our kids will grow up and play Little League together and start a band. Either that, or become evil overlords and take over the world. Probably a 50-50 call either way."  
"And your kids and mine will be the best of friends, just like their dads."  
"From your lips, Sam," said Blaine quietly as he rested his head comfortably on Sam's shoulder.  
Standing in silence facing the new additions to Blaine's family, neither noticed Kurt looking in at the two of them from outside the observation area, disappointment filling his features as he realized he'd have to adapt his plans yet again.


	5. Nightmares and Dreamscapes, Part I

MARCH 2013

"Sam, are you alright? You look awful."  
"It's no big deal. I've just been having trouble sleeping, that's all."  
"For how long? You look like you haven't slept in days!"  
"That's not true. I got two whole hours of sleep last night," retorted Sam drily.  
"You know that's nowhere near enough. I'll tell you what. My parents are away for the weekend, as usual. Come over to my place and we'll have a sleepover. We can binge watch Firefly, and I'll even let you make those awful apple-kale smoothies you like so much."  
"Those smoothies are delicious." The face Blaine pulled showed he clearly didn't agree.  
"Whatever you say, Sam." Blaine leaned in closer and whispered, "I'll even be your human teddy bear, if it'll help."  
"Heh," Sam chuckled, albeit almost mirthlessly. "Like I had to ask your permission for that." That much was certainly true—asleep, Sam was like a cuddly, miniature black hole, drawing everything within reach toward him with a vice-like grip. The result usually ended up somewhere between spooning and something resembling a Gordian knot, or one of those cartoon snowballs where an unfortunate skier ended up with limbs sticking out impossibly in every direction. It was comforting and reassuring, unless he was grabbing you somewhere he shouldn't, in which case superhuman efforts were required to get him to either wake up or just loosen his grip slightly. (Luckily, Blaine knew Sam well enough to figure out how to extract himself without too much damage. How he did it, though, was a secret he'd never reveal.)  
"So you'll do it then? Please, Sam." And he turned pleading and sad eyes toward Sam. "I'm just worried about you. OK?" It was Sam's kryptonite—he never could turn down his best friend.  
"All right, B. I'll do it." Somehow, though, agreeing only made Sam even more anxious.

Blaine awoke with a start, gasping for air. Although he was used to that by now, he noted something else was wrong—or maybe he should say someone was wrong. His sleepover buddy was currently thrashing in the bed alongside him, and soon began to start screaming.  
"No! Stop! I'm sorry! Please, just stop!"  
Seeing Sam suffering from a nightmare, he sprung into action, wrapping himself around Sam's back and then pulling him into an upright position.  
"Sam, wake up. You're having a nightmare. C'mon, Sam. Wake up!"  
Sam's eyes opened, but it didn't seem like he was fully alert. "I'm sorry, Blaine! It shouldn't have happened! I'm sorry! Please stop!"  
Blaine didn't know what to make of this. "Sam! I'm here. I'm fine! There's nothing to worry about it!"  
"You're not real. You're just saying that to mess with me. I'm sorry you're gone! But you've got to stop!"  
Gone? What? "Sam. I'm right here. Can't you see?"  
"You can't be here. He killed you. You're dead, and it's all my fault."  
Blaine panicked—this wasn't good. "Sam, please wake up. Look down. See my hands around you? They're real. So am I. I'm fine. Nobody's hurt me. But you've got to wake up, because you're scaring me. Please, Sammy?"  
Finally Sam started to come round. "Blaine? Is that really you?"  
"Yes, it is. Are you okay?"  
"I guess so. I didn't hurt you, did I?"  
"No, I'll be fine. But you frightened the hell out of me. What were you dreaming of that was so awful? You were terrified."  
"What was I saying?"  
"You said that I was dead, and that it was all your fault. Is that why you've been having trouble sleeping?"  
"Yeah."  
"Do you want to talk about?"  
"No, not really. But I think I need to tell you what's been going on."  
"Well, you don't have to if you don't want to, but I'm sure we'll feel better if we share what we've been dreaming."  
"All right. I keep dreaming of the lockdown, but I manage to break free from Mr. Shue and Coach Beiste and try to get of the choir room. That's when the trouble starts.  
"What happens next changes. Sometimes the ruckus I made causes the shooter to head to the choir room. Sometimes he gets there all on his own. But the worst is when you follow me out trying to find Brittany. No matter what, though, the gunman always finds you."  
"Sam, you don't have to—"  
"No, Blaine. Let me finish. The worst is when you're with me, because he finds us, and he takes aim at me. But then you get in the way. There's blood, everywhere, and I can't stop it. There's nothing I can do but watch you. I don't even get to say—"  
"Stop, Sam. I'm okay, see? It was just a nightmare."  
"Yeah, one that's been keeping me up at night for a month because it won't go away. How do I make it stop? What did you do?"  
"What do you mean, 'what did I do?'"  
"You must have had some nightmares, too. How did you get them to stop?"  
Blaine paused for a beat, before softly replying, "Who said I did?"  
"Wait. What?"  
Not waiting for Sam to finish, Blaine starts telling his tale, a glassy, far-off look in his eyes. "They still haven't caught the shooter, right? Well, he doesn't get the job done at McKinley, so he comes to my house at night Turns out that sometimes it's Sebastian, trying to finish the job he started with the rock salt slushie."  
"Damn, I want to clean Sebastian's clock, even if it's just dream Sebastian."  
"Those are the not-so-bad nightmares, Sam. Sometimes the shooter's Kurt."  
"Crap."  
"That pretty much sums it up, yeah. He's pissed off and accusing me of cheating on him again."  
"But you guys aren't even dating!"  
"That doesn't matter in dreams. But what makes it so much worse is that you're also there. You try to be the hero, and—"  
"I get it, dude. But how come you don't look like you've gone three rounds with Mike Tyson if you're not sleeping, either?"  
"Little guy metabolism, I guess. I've never slept all that much. Most nights I get four to five hours a night."  
"Really? But what about all the times we've had sleepovers. You're usually out like a log till almost noon!"  
"It's probably because I feel comfortable enough to sleep knowing that there's someone there beside me, watching over me and keeping me safe. It's why I asked you over. I didn't want to have to fight this by myself anymore. And once I realized you were having the same problem, I figured you didn't either."  
"So you want to make like Nightmare on Elm Street?"  
"Yeah, except without the dying part, if possible."  
"That'd be totally awesome—but only if I can beat up dream Sebastian and Kurt."  
"You have yourself a deal. What would I ever do without you, Sam Evans?"  
"Probably get caught doping with the Warblers."  
"Ouch."  
"Oh wait. That was one of those rhetorical question thingies, wasn't it?"  
"Yeah, Sam. But you're probably right. I wouldn't really where I'd be if you hadn't been there for me this year."  
"I could say exactly the same thing. Now let's get to sleep. I have some bad guys to beat up."  
"And I'll be fighting your bad guys just as hard. G'night, Sammy."  
"Night, Blaine."


	6. Nightmares and Dreamscapes, Part II

JUNE 2018

Sam just needed to get behind the wheel and drive a bit to wrap his head around the recent realizations he had come to in the last day or so. He couldn't believe he had been so foolish for so long, and missing what was right in front of him. But that was Sam's life in a nutshell.  
He had been so caught up in his thoughts that he almost missed the deer kneeling down in the road until it was too late. Frantically trying to steer the car out of the way, he felt the car begin to slip out of his control after running into some sort of slick on the road. As the car careened out of control, Sam sent up a quick prayer that he'd be alright.

NOVEMBER 2045

Sam stood up and clinked his fork against his glass, getting everyone's attention as a dozen pairs of eyes turned toward him, and another pair that just kind of ignored him.  
"It's good to see that we're all finally together for the holidays, including those who have been far off for a while," he said, looking at his son Dave and his girlfriend Ariel, "as well as the newest addition to our family," glancing lovingly at Rachel, Dan's daughter and Sam's first grandchild. "And while it's time to give thanks for all the blessings in our lives, I can't help but wish that those who couldn't be with us today will join our table soon. Like Kitty and Artie, and Rachel and Jesse, and most of all my best friend Blaine."  
Everybody was smiling until Sam's last comment, when suddenly a pall was cast over the room. Dan and Dave and their significant others turned their eyes to the other patriarch in the room, who cleared his throat and said, "Sam, could I have a word with you in the kitchen?"  
"Sure."  
They quietly moved to the hallway, clearly understanding that the conversation needed to be done discreetly so as not to ruin things any further. When the swinging door to the kitchen finally rested, Sam turned toward his husband. "What's wrong, Kurt?"  
"Is everything OK, Sam? Are you sure nothing's wrong? Did the doctors find anything wrong with your last check-up?"  
"I'm fine, Kurt! Why are you treating me like I've lost my mind?"  
"Because you don't have a best friend Blaine, Sam."  
"Sure I do."  
"No, you don't. I've known you for nearly thirty-five years, and have been married to you for twenty-five. You've never had a friend named Blaine, let alone a best friend. You're scaring everybody, Sam. So again, what's going on?"  
"I honestly don't know what you're talking about. I just chatted with him on the phone last night! We're going to go see the Red Sox-Mets game when he comes to town next weekend! He's the one who came up with the names of our kids, Kurt! Don't tell me there's no Blaine."  
"I'm sorry, Sam. But clearly you're having some sort of hallucination, but there's no Blaine. You're going to the game with Paul, and it was Artie who suggested Dan and Dave."  
"No, that can't be right," but doubt crept into Sam's voice. "I have his photo right here in my wallet," taking it out and flipping it open, only to find that his favorite photo of them, taken the day they both graduated from McKinley, was now replaced by one of his two sons.  
"What? I don't understand," said Sam fearfully. "I know he's not made up! Where are the photos?"  
Kurt shook his head sadly. "Maybe it was something you ate that's messing with your head. Perhaps you just need to lie down for a while. Go upstairs and rest. I'll tell everyone you're not feeling well, and I'll make an appointment with the doctor first thing in the morning.  
"I don't know what's wrong, but it's not that I'm making up someone who doesn't exist, Kurt. That much I'm sure of."  
"We'll see, Sam. But for now, I think you should go upstairs."  
"Okay. Goodnight."  
"Goodnight, Sam."  
Sam climbed the stairs up to his room, but turned on instinct left to one of the other bedrooms instead of heading to the master bedroom on the right. Closing the door to his room and turning on the light, Sam asked out loud to no one in particular, "what's wrong with me?"  
He didn't expect what came next. "You're starting to remember," replied a voice he'd know anywhere.  
He turned his head, ready to pounce on the newcomer. "Blaine! I knew you were real!"  
Blaine put up his hands, though, urging Sam to calm down. "But I'm not, Sam. Not really. I'm not a figment of your imagination, but I'm not Blaine. I'm a part of your mind."  
Sam smiled at this. "So you're telling me you're literally in my head?"  
"However you want to understand this is fine by me. But the important thing you've got to realize is that you don't have a lot of time left."  
"Time left?" asked Sam, completely puzzled by not-Blaine's cryptic remark. "Left for what?"  
"To wake up, Sam."  
"Wake up? But I haven't even gone to sleep yet," answered Sam, trying to make light of the situation.  
Not-Blaine's expression became grim but determined. "Sam, you should probably sit down for this," he said, patting the bed next to where he was sitting Indian style.  
"You're scaring me."  
"Well, it's a lot to take in. But the big thing is this: none of this is real."  
"Huh? My kids? My granddaughter? They're not real? What's going on?"  
"All of this is something that your mind has made up to protect you, Sam."  
"Protect me? Protect me from what?"  
"Maybe protect is not the right word. But your mind needed something to keep it busy while the rest of your body was healing itself."  
"Healing itself?"  
"Sam, you were in a car accident—a very bad one. You had to be resuscitated by the paramedics on the way to the hospital, and you've been out for a long time."  
"Twenty-five years?!"  
"No. Time is passing more quickly here than out there. In the real world, it's only been a few weeks. But the thing is your body is ready, but you need to give up this fantasy world for the real one and wake up."  
"But what happens if I don't? If I choose to stay here."  
"Well, you're getting older. You're fifty in this place. A few more decades here—a week or two out there—and then it's all over."  
"You mean. . . ."  
"Yes, Sam."  
"Oh."  
"It's a lot to take in at once, Sam. But you've also got to know what's waiting for you out there. It's not going to be easy."  
"The accident?"  
"Yeah. No brain damage, thank God, but you're pretty beat up. Your right leg is broken, you had multiple cracked ribs and a lot of other injuries. You're going to have a rough road to get back to one hundred percent. But it's not just physical pain. There's a lot of heartbreak waiting for you out there as well."  
"I know. That's kind of the whole reason I'm in this mess, isn't it?"  
"Yeah, I guess you're right."  
"You make it sound as if I'd be better off staying here."  
"I didn't say that. But you need to know it isn't going to be all puppies and rainbows when you wake up."  
"No, but staying here now that I know the truth isn't really an option, either. But tell me something—why isn't Blaine here? I'd have thought he'd be part of this," Sam paused, looking for the right word, but failing. "This, well, whatever it is."  
"It's your brain trying to protect itself and keep you alive."  
"What?  
"Let's put it this way. If we swapped Kurt out for Blaine, would you want to wake up?"  
Sam considered this for a minute. "I see what you mean."  
"Exactly."  
A long but comfortable pause ensued.  
"Okay. What do I need to do to wake up?"  
"You just need to leave this place?"  
"And how do I do that?"  
"You're the Narnia fan here. You figure it out."  
A smile crept across Sam's face. "Oh, this is going to be awesome," he said, approaching the closet door. As he went to open it, though, he was blinded by a flash of bright light. Sam winced at the pain it caused, and hesitated.  
"I don't know if I can do this. It's too much."  
"I know, Sam. But it will be okay, I promise you. Everything will be fine in the end."  
"I'm going to hold you to that, me," Sam said, before opening the door once more and making his way slowly, inexorably back to consciousness.

JULY 2018

Blaine slowly woke from his sleep. Or at least what passed for sleep. He was exhausted, but he had to keep going. He needed to be here for Sam. He spent literally every waking moment he could here, except for those brief spells when the hospital staff made him leave to change his clothes, shower, shave, and get a real meal and a few hours of sleep in a bed that didn't reek of antiseptic and hospital linens.  
Blaine had lost all sense of time. He wasn't sure how long he had been here. Perhaps it was a few days. It could have been a year or maybe even as long as the lifespan of the known universe. It didn't matter right now.  
He picked up his tablet and began reading. Sam had moved on from Star Wars fanfic when he had discovered reruns of Star Trek: Voyager. So now Blaine was reading to his friend the continuing adventures of Captain Janeway, Seven of Nine, and the holographic Doctor. At least that was what he was doing when he wasn't trying to keep Sam's body moving so his muscles wouldn't atrophy, or reminiscing about their past and dreaming up plans for the future. They'd do it all, if only Sam would wake up.  
So he resumed his vigil, voice hoarse from use, hand clasped tightly in Sam's, not letting go of the connection between them, trying to force his best friend back to consciousness through sheer strength of will.  
After what could have been minutes or his whole life, he felt an answering squeeze, and could see the fluttering of Sam's eyelids, Blaine wasn't sure he wasn't hallucinating, but he pressed the call button and waited for the nurse to arrive. One quick look at Sam and she left in a hurry, summoning what seemed like an entire army of doctors, nurses, and technicians, who quickly got to work, while the call nurse ushered Blaine out of the room so he couldn't interfere.  
After decades of waiting (okay, it was about six hours, but they were the longest of Blaine's life so far), he finally was allowed to see Sam again. He was resting comfortably, wearing a goofy grin. When he saw  
"Hey, Blaine! How are you doing?"  
"I'm great, Sammy, now that you're finally awake."  
"Well, I don't know how long that will be. They've got me on the good stuff, so I might fall asleep again pretty soon."  
"That's okay. I really just wanted to see that you were up with my own eyes."  
"I am, and I'm pretty sure I have you to thank for that."  
"I didn't make your body heal, Sam. That was all you," said Blaine, trying to deflect his friend's praise as he so often did.  
"But you probably stuck by me like a barnacle. The nurses were telling me you had practically moved in here."  
Blaine blushed. "Okay, I may have turned on the Anderson charm a bit to get them to bend the rules a bit."  
"Bend? More like smashed. They tell me you've been here nonstop for almost a month." Sam's brows furrowed, like he was trying to work something out. "Wait. You've been here a month."  
"About that, yeah."  
"But what about Les Mis? Didn't the rehearsals start a few weeks ago? Why aren't you back in Manhattan? And where's Kurt?"  
"Slow down, Sam!" said Blaine, trying to soothe his friend's anxiety. "I told the producers that I needed to be here until you were okay, I told Kurt the same thing. He was in a snit, but considering his role in this, he didn't have much room to raise a stink. Although I'm sure he'll find some way to get back at me for missing so much time there."  
"But what about Les Mis? That was going to be your big Broadway debut!"  
"And what kind of debut would it be for me if my best friend isn't there to share it, Sam? They recast the part. I'll have to make my Broadway debut some other time."  
"No, Blaine! Get back there and tell them you want it back! I'll be fine here."  
"I'm not going anywhere yet, Sam. You're nowhere near ready to take care of yourself yet. Heck, you're not even going to be able to stand on your right left for a few more weeks at least. Besides, there's still a whole lot more we have to talk about. I'm worried about you, Sam."  
"I know you are, Blaine. But I'll be okay. Everything will be okay. But I still wish you hadn't sacrificed so much to be here. I owe you, more than I can ever repay."  
"Well, you can start repaying me by getting healthier. But we don't have to talk now. You must still be tired."  
"Yeah, I'm flagging a bit. But you'll be back later, right?"  
"Of course, Sam. Where else would I be?"  
"G'night Blaine. Love ya," slurred Sam as he started to drift off into sleep. Blaine didn't doubt Sam's words, but he wondered exactly what Sam had meant. But that conversation would have to wait.


	7. Per Aspera ad Astra

Author's notes: [1] This story tries to stick to the storyline as the producers have built it, so Kurt and Blaine are still together in 2020. So our protagonists will find get their acts together, but not quite yet. [2] This is also the last of the "set-up" chapters. The fun starts soon.

JUNE 2018

"Subtitles? I thought this movie was in English!"  
"No, Sam. It's a classic of French cinema. It won lots of awards when it came out."  
"Huh." Worried that he wouldn't be able to keep up with the barrage of subtitles, he sent off a hurried text.  
Blond Chameleon: Dude, you've got to help me.  
Nightbird: What's up?  
Blond Chameleon: I'm at a movie theater about to watch a French film with subtitles, and I don't want to look like an idiot after when I can't say anything about what happens!  
Nightbird: What's the movie?  
Blond Chameleon: "Claire's Sneeze" or something ridiculous like that.  
Nightbird: You mean "Claire's Knee"?  
Blond Chameleon: Yeah, that's it.  
Nightbird: It's a big French classic. The hero sees a young woman—Claire—and thinks her knee is the most perfect knee in the world. He wants to touch it, but needs to find the right moment. He gets his chance when he tells her that her boyfriend is cheating on her. It's everything he could hope for. The end.  
Blond Chameleon: That's it?  
Nightbird: Pretty much, yeah.  
Blond Chameleon: Sounds lame, if you ask me. He doesn't even want to kiss her?  
Nightbird: Nope, it's all about the knee.  
Blond Chameleon: Huh. Okay, I guess. Thanks, man. You're a lifesaver.  
Nightbird: No problem. Enjoy the film.  
As the lights dimmed, Amanda turned to Sam and chided: "You need to put that away!"  
"Sorry."  
"That's okay. But who were you texting?"  
"Just Blaine." Because of the darkness, he missed Amanda's eyeroll. "He'd tell me the plot of the foreign movies our friend Artie was always making us watch before we got started."  
"Why did he do that?"  
"Because my dyslexia makes it very difficult for me to read the captions for the entire length of a movie, and I don't want to spend two hours watching a movie and have no clue what it was about afterward."  
"That was awfully nice of him."  
"Yeah, he's awesome like that. He'd help with some of my other stuff when it got hard to read because of the dyslexia."  
Not wanting to hear another rundown about how awesome Sam's best friend was, Amanda was relieved to see the previews starting. She politely shushed Sam and turned her focus to the screen.

"I had a really great time tonight, Amanda. Do you want—"  
"Sam," He didn't really like the tone with which Amanda said his name. "We need to talk."  
"Uh-oh. Was it about texting Blaine? I'm totally sorry—"  
"No, it's not about that. Well, actually it is, a little bit."  
"I don't understand."  
"I guess what I'm trying to say is that I get the feeling that I'm always competing for your attention and your affections."  
"What? Of course not. I'm not seeing anyone else right now."  
"Maybe not, but I feel like I'm always competing with your best friend Blaine, who always seems to work his way into our relationship, even though he's five hundred miles away."  
"That's crazy. He has nothing to do with us. He wasn't at the restaurant in Westerville."  
"The one you went to celebrate your regionals win your senior year, and where you went for his post-marriage dinner?"  
"We went to that awesome exhibit at the art museum—"  
"That Blaine recommended to you a few weeks ago? And don't forget tonight. The truth is, you're just using me as a proxy for the relationship you want to have with him."  
"But I don't want a relationship with Blaine. He's my best friend. That's it."  
"Really, Sam? I think you need to think about that really carefully. Because I think you want to be with him more than you want to be with me."  
"Come on, Amanda. Give me another chance."  
"I'm sorry, Sam. I need to be with someone who wants me for me, not just so they can avoid the truth. I hope you find what you're looking for." She placed a kiss on his cheek. "Goodbye, Sam." She left the car and headed inside without looking back.  
"Ugh," said Sam, dropping his head onto the top of the steering wheel. "Not again."

"Do you want my honest advice, Sam?" asked Ryder over the phone.  
"No, lie to me. Why do you think I called?" Ryder could feel the snark over the line, even though he was five hundred miles away.  
"Look, the thing is you shouldn't be afraid of telling Blaine anything. Your friendship is way too strong for you to still worry about that. Seriously. If everybody were turned into zombies, zombie you and zombie Blaine would find away to go around eating everyone's brains as a team. Don't ask me how exactly, but if there's anybody who'd figure out, it's you two."  
"I just worry that he's going to take this badly, and that he won't want to be friends anymore."  
"Unless your news is 'I don't want to be friends anymore,' or 'I'm in love with Kurt,' I honestly don't see that happening."  
"Kurt? Ugh. Don't even suggest something like that, dude. It's not funny, and I don't need that mental image running around in my head."  
"Sorry, Sam. But you understand what I'm saying, right? Just come clean with him. It may be a rocky road, but you guys will be the stronger for it."  
"You sure, Ryder?"  
"Positive, man. Blaine and I have talked a lot about this sort of stuff. He'll probably take it better than you think."  
"I hope you're right, man. Thanks."  
"Anytime."

AUGUST 2018

After Sam had been released from the hospital, Blaine stuck around Lima for a few additional weeks while Sam's leg healed and he was still somewhat hobbled and found it difficult to get around. He periodically checked in with Kurt, but Sam noticed the calls getting shorter and shorter as the weeks passed.  
It was just a week or two before classes started, and Sam knew that Blaine needed to get back to New York. However, Blaine seemed put off by the idea, and still seemed worried about something. Even while packing up his stuff, Blaine kept looking around anxiously. Eventually, Sam's patience reached its limit.  
"Dude, you've got to tell me what's wrong. You look like you're worried I'm going to disappear if you look away or something."  
"Sam," said Blaine, putting a carefully folded cardigan into his suitcase, "can we talk for a minute?"  
"Always, Blaine. You know that. What's up?"  
"To be honest, I've been worried ever since the crash. You left me a message, remember? 'I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry.'"  
"Yeah," responded Sam, unsure of where Blaine was going with this.  
"You know who says that, right? And when he says that? Ten says that, usually just about the time somebody's about to die, or he's about to do something horrible because he has no other choice."  
"I know, Blaine. I was there when we binge watched Ten's episodes."  
"Well, I've been worried that you meant that driving into that tree . . . " Blaine's voice trailed off sadly. However, his implication was clear.  
"Oh, God, no! Blaine! I'd never try to do that on purpose! I wouldn't be able to abandon you and my family like that."  
"But what did you mean by that, then?"  
"I had already called 911, but I didn't know what was going on, and I was worried that I might be in really big trouble. I wanted to call to let you know that I was sorry that I might not be around anymore, and. . . ."  
"And what, Sam?"  
"And that I wouldn't be able to tell you how I really feel."  
"Wait, what? How you really feel? Sam. . . ."  
"No, please, Blaine. Let me finish. Amanda broke up with me a week before the accident. But it was something she said that got me thinking. And it scared me so much I didn't want to say anything. Then I remembered what you told me about shame spirals when I wanted to confess being a Fanilow during Guilty Pleasures week. But I guess it was also Guilty Pleasures week when all of this began.  
"You asked me if I had feelings for you, and I said I didn't. That's not entirely true. Even then, I felt something—but I had no idea what that was. The feelings weren't really family; you were much closer to me even then than Stacie and Stevie. But I didn't think it was romantic love, either. It wasn't anything like what I had with Mercedes or Quinn or Brittany, So I figured it had to be something else, like having a best friend in my life for the first time. Someone who totally got me, and vice versa.  
"And those feelings just kept getting deeper and stronger with time. I just didn't have a name for it. And then Amanda tells me that she's breaking up with me because she thought I wanted to be with you more than I wanted to be with her. Then I finally understood."  
Blaine was a bit panic-stricken, muttering under his breath, "Oh, God, no. Sam. Not that." But Sam pressed on, unable to stop now that he had gotten started.  
"1 realized that she was one hundred percent right about that. I did want to be with you more than with her. But it's not just her—it's everybody. There is no one else I want to spend the rest of my life with, and grow old and grey-haired with. There's no one else I want to protect and support as much as you. I want to share the laughter and crying and suffering with you: not just mine, but yours as well. But most of all, I want you to know every moment of every day that you are loved, Blaine Anderson, and by no one more than me."  
Sam's monologue clearly moved Blaine to tears, although that last line brought Blaine up short. "That's beautiful, Sam. But I don't know what you want me to do with this."  
"You don't have to say or do anything right now. I understand that we can't be together right now."  
"You do?"  
"This isn't some contrived teen drama where characters start cheating on one another at the drop of a hat."  
"No, you're right. It's not. But the real problem is that I'm married, Sam. I've made vows that I can't break—not even for you. I can't, and I won't, because we'll never be able to be together if we did."  
"Because you'd blame yourself for cheating, and that would tear us apart in the long run, too."  
"How?—"  
"How did I know what you're thinking? Because I know you, Blaine, just as well as you know me."  
"Then you also know how much I would have wanted to hear you say that senior year, or in college, or even on my wedding day. But now? Now it's too late. I have to fight for both of you now."  
"What?"  
"It's something Ryder said. I have to fight for my marriage, but I'm also going to fight for us. I won't let you go, either, no matter what anyone else says or wants. But what are you going to do?"  
"I'll wait, if that's what you want."  
"Wait? How long?"  
"For the rest of our lives, if need be."  
"No, Sam. I can't let you do that."  
"I didn't realize this was your call to make. I can choose to wait if I wanted."  
"But what happens if we can't make it work? I don't want you pining for the rest of your life, never being happy. You deserve to have someone in your life who will make you happy."  
"There's only one person who'll make me truly happy, and he's right here."  
"Sam, you know what I mean. You don't think I feel the same way? But we need to find something—someone—to keep us going when we can't be together."  
"Wait. Let me get this straight. You want me to keep dating?"  
"For now. At least until we can get on the same page..  
"Huh? You think you guys aren't going to last?"  
"Honestly? I don't know. Ever since I was cast in Les Mis, Kurt has been difficult, to put it mildly. All his own securities are resurfacing. Why do you think I've stayed here so long? Being around him is exhausting. Even Rachel is getting fed up with him, and Santana is threatening to murder him on a near daily basis."  
"And now you have to go back into the lion's den."  
"Exactly."  
"I'm sorry, man. We'll get through this, though. Just like we always do. Now let's hug it out. C'mon man. Bro hug!"  
Blaine crossed the distance between them, and wrapped Sam up in a fierce bear hug. "Thank you, Sam. But I've got to know one more thing, Sam."  
"What?"  
"Did you really just quote River Song and Rory Williams in your declaration of undying love?"  
"Hey! It's the best I could come up with on the spur of the moment."  
"Don't worry about it. It was perfect. But that doesn't mean you're not the most ridiculous person I've ever met, Blond Chameleon. And the most wonderful."  
"Thanks, Nightbird."  
Long minutes passed as they held each other in companionable silence.


	8. The Dam Bursts

JUNE 2021

"I don't like the idea of vaccinating our child, Blaine. It just seems unnatural to pump a young child so full of chemicals."  
"Stop with the pseudoscience, Kurt. Half of my mother's family was wiped out in the first half of last century because of all the various flu and measles outbreaks. There are entire branches of my family tree that got wiped out because they got sick and there wasn't a vaccine to prevent the disease from spreading. There is no way I'm letting my kids be exposed to unnecessary dangers. Those diseases are no joke, Kurt."  
"But what about the autism links?"  
"Again, the ones started by a quack who faked the data and lost his license because he wanted to discredit the existing measles vaccine so he could sell his own?"  
"What?"  
"Yeah, all of this was started over greed, not a fear for children's safety, Kurt."  
"Fine. But I'm still worried."  
"Of course. But I'd rather worry about the much smaller risk of complications from the vaccine than letting them catch measles or mumps, Kurt."  
"Sure, Blaine. Just don't come running to me if there is a problem."

JANUARY 2022

"He won't stop crying, Blaine."  
"Who, Kurt? Finn or Sam?"  
"Sam. Finn's fine, but he won't be for long if I can't get Sam to sleep."  
"If it's Sam, then take Sam by the computer, open up the browser, and click the bookmark that says "Little Sam's Lullaby."  
Kurt followed Blaine's directions, and was promptly greeted with a YouTube link. Clicking the start button, the title was replaced with a full-screen view of Sam Evans holding a guitar, and looking into the camera. "Sorry you're having trouble sleeping, little buddy. Hope you have some sweet dreams." A short pause ensued before an arrangement of Brahms's Lullaby sounded through the speakers. Little Sam visibly relaxed as the melody began to play; by the end of the second verse, he was out like a light.  
"Of course Sam is the baby whisperer. I should have known," muttered Kurt under his breath, as he took the now-sleeping Sam to his crib. Returning to the kitchen, he asked Blaine why there was a video of Sam singing to his godson.  
"We figured it out a few weeks ago when we were talking by Skype. Sammy was acting fussy and wouldn't go to sleep until Sam played his guitar and started singing. After that, it was like taking a sleeping pill for little Sammy. He never slept so quietly before. So I made an arrangement of the lullaby for Sam to play on his guitar, and it's worked like a charm ever since."  
"Why doesn't it work when we sing for him, then?"  
"I don't know. It's just a response—babies respond differently to different frequencies and timbres, I suppose. Or maybe they just have a bond between them."  
"So my son is bonding to his godfather as opposed to his actual father. Wonderful."  
"Don't worry about it, Kurt. You just need to spend more time with them and they'll warm up to you, too."  
"I hope so."

NOVEMBER 2022

Blaine looked at his buzzing cell phone, and saw a message from Kurt. _You need to drop what you're doing, and come to the office RIGHT NOW._  
Looking down at his son, he typed: _Can this wait an hour or two, Kurt?_  
Blaine couldn't believe how fast the reply came back. _No, it can't. There's a world-famous designer here taking measurements of all the male staffers so he can create tailor-made suits for an upcoming spread in the magazine. You will never have an opportunity like this again. If you're not here in, like, the next half-hour, it'll be too late._  
Blaine typed away: _I'd like to, but I can't be there for a while. Sorry._  
Another response. _What's wrong now?_  
 _I'm at the doctor's office with Finn._  
 _A short moment followed. Wait. Why? And where's Sam?_  
 _He has an ear infection. Sam's at home with Sam._ The elder Sam was in town for the Thanksgiving holiday at Blaine's invitation.  
 _You left our son at home with Sam? Why isn't he with you?_  
 _I'm not bringing a baby to a doctor's office unnecessarily, and he's perfectly safe at home with Sam._  
 _I'm just not comfortable with the idea of leaving Sam alone. What if he gets absorbed in his video games?_  
 _Not a chance. He's amazing with the boys, Kurt. If he didn't have a job in Lima, I'd hire him as an au pair or something._  
 _Whatever. I'm not happy about this._  
 _Well, if you wanted to do something about it, you could always try to be around more often. I tried to call you when I was getting ready to go, but you didn't answer._  
 _Because of this opportunity. Really, Blaine._  
The nurse called Finn's name, and Blaine got ready to go inside to the examination room.  
 _Okay, Kurt. I have to go for now. We'll talk more about this later._  
 _Fine. I'll see you then, and I'll tell you about what happened today._  
 _Great. Talk to you soon._

MAY 2023

"Is this important, Blaine? I'm late for coffee with Rachel."  
"Yes, this is important, Kurt. We need to figure out what's wrong here."  
"The only thing wrong right now is that you're trying to wreck my career just like you did yours. You're so jealous that you can't stand to see me succeed."  
"It's not about your Broadway break, and I'm not jealous at all."  
"Of course not, Blaine."  
"Kurt, I care about what's happening to our family. You said you thought it was important that our kids spend as much time with us as possible before going into childcare. Now all of a sudden, you get a big break, and now you want to get rid of the boys so quick it's like they had the plague or something. Why don't you want to spend time with them the way you said you would."  
"It's not like that, Blaine. Of course I want to spend time with them. But I can't be a full-time dad and star in a Broadway show!"  
"You're right. You can't. But you also can't ask me to keep doing this without your support. Raising twins is more than a full-time job. It's a round-the-clock job, especially when they get so hyperactive. I'm exhausted all of the time, and I need you to step up like you promised."  
"Why? So you can ruin your career a second time?"  
"Why do you keep bringing it up over and over again."  
"Because apparently your friend Sam was more important to you than your job and future career or even your family."  
"Stop right there, Kurt. You had no idea what was going on there."  
"Because you won't tell me anything."  
"I've told you it's not my story to tell. You want to find out about what happened, ask Sam."  
"See? That's exactly what I mean. You're protecting him all this time, as if you—as if you had an affair with him while you were gone. That's it, isn't it?"  
"Kurt, we're just friends. Nothing happened, and nothing will happen."  
"Then why won't you tell me?"  
"As I said, I promised him that it would be between us, unless he chose to talk about it. And I'm keeping that promise, just like I've kept my promises and vows to you."  
"I can't take your word for that. Not based on your track record."  
"Seriously? This is crazy, Kurt. Nothing has ever happened between me and Sam, and nothing will."  
"You can prove that by cutting him out of your life, once and for all."  
"You're ordering me to stop seeing my best friend."  
"For the good of our marriage, that's right."  
"Well you can take that order and shove it. It's not about the good of our marriage, it's for the good of your neuroses and raging ego. "  
"How dare you?"  
"Because we both know it's the truth, Kurt. You're jealous of the friendship we have, and the fact that you don't have one like it."  
"And you're still refusing to admit what's really going on between you. You need to make up your mind and soon, Blaine. And don't you dare think of sleeping anywhere but on the couch until you do. Good night, Blaine." And with that, Kurt left their apartment in a huff, while Blaine tried to figure out how that conversation went so spectacularly wrong.

TWO WEEKS LATER

"Thanks for helping me take Finn and Sam to the park, Ryder," said Blaine, opening the door to his apartment and pushing a stroller with Finn inside. Ryder followed in a moment later with Sam.  
"Thanks for inviting me. I love hanging with these little munchkins," said Ryder, tousling Sam's hair. "Besides, it'll be good practice for my career. Now are you sure you're going to be alright with Kurt? He sounds as if he's starting to lose it."  
"He just needs a bit of time to come to his senses. He'll be fine soon enough."  
"OK, I'll trust you on this. If you're fine with these two, I'm going to head out."  
Blaine headed towards their bedroom, where he noticed the door left ajar for the first time in weeks. "Hold on a sec, Ryder," he answered as he entered the room.  
Whatever Ryder was expecting to happen next, the sound of Blaine's phone falling to the ground followed by a loud, dull thud immediately after was not it.


	9. The Cavalry Arrives

JUNE 1, 2023

Sam was just getting out of his three-day workshop for high school music teachers in Philadelphia, full of new ideas about how he could help the New Directions become three-times-in-a-row national champions, when he received a text from his best friend.  
 _Nightbird: Saline toad met sneeze a balmy single._  
To say that Sam was befuddled by this text would have been the understatement of the century. Not sure how to reply, he opted for snark:  
 _Blond Chameleon: Have you been taking NyQuil again?_  
The next response, though, scared Sam.  
 _Nightbird: Its Ryder. Call asap!_  
Ducking into the hallway, he quickly dialed Blaine's phone, not knowing what to expect when the call finally connected.  
"Hello?"  
"Hi, Sam. It's Ryder."  
"I got that. Sorry about the joke about the text."  
"Don't worry about it. One-handed typing, dyslexia, and auto-correct just don't mix."  
"Tell me about it. I thought Blaine was making fun of me. Speaking of that, where is he."  
"He's here, but he's in pretty rough shape. We just got back to his apartment with Finn and Sam—we were taking them to Central Park—when he went into his room. Something spooked him bad, Sam. He collapsed against the wall, and he was huddled there so small, like he wanted to disappear into the wall."  
"Did he say anything."  
"The only thing he said was to tell you he was sending a 'Blam signal.'"  
"Blam signal? Are you absolutely sure about that, Ryder?"  
"One hundred percent sure, Sam. Does that mean anything to you?"  
"Unfortunately, yes. It means he's at the end of his rope, and doesn't know what to do. Where is he right now?"  
"He's right next to me. Do you want to talk to him?"  
"Yeah, for a second."  
"Hold on." He turned to Blaine, holding out the phone. "It's Sam. He wants to talk."  
Blaine slowly seemed to rouse himself from his stupor, and stiffly took the phone. "Sam? Is that really you?"  
"Yes, B. It's me."  
"Did Ryder tell you? Are you coming?" Sam had never heard his best friend sound so sad, so tentative, so utterly defeated, and it nearly broke his own heart. Whatever it was had been truly awful. He also suspected he knew who the problem was, if not exactly what.  
"I'm in Philadelphia right now. I'll be on the next train to New York, I promise."  
"Please, Sam. You have to help me. Please. You promised."  
"And I'll do that as soon as I can get there."  
"Thank you, Sam."  
"I promise you, B, we'll figure this out. Can you put Ryder back on?"  
"Sure, Sam. See you soon." He handed the phone back to Ryder, and then returned to his near-catatonia.  
"It's me, again, Sam. What's up?"  
"OK. Look, I'm in Philadelphia right now, and am going to get there as soon as I can. But in the meanwhile, I know I have no right to ask this of you—"  
"Don't worry about it, Sam. Whatever Blaine needs, I'll help. He's been a great friend to me over the years, and I owe him a lot."  
"Well, I need you to stay with him until I can get there."  
"Are you worried he might do something?"  
"Not intentionally, but in the state he's in now, I don't want him doing anything by accident. Is there anybody else you can get over there to help you? You'll probably need to have someone help with Finn and Sam."  
"Artie and Kitty are around, and I can probably get Unique or Marley, too. Maybe Santana in a pinch."  
"Santana? Seriously?"  
"Yeah, I wouldn't have thought so either, and she'd probably kill me for saying this, but she's a real softie around the little munchkins."  
"Huh. Would never have guessed."  
"Yeah. Now what else do you need?"  
"Just keep him occupied until I get there. And somebody may need to stay overnight to watch Sam and Finn. I suspect I'll be too busy with Blaine."  
"I'll do it. I can put together a bag once the others get here."  
"Thanks, Ryder. You have no idea how much this means to me, and to Blaine."  
"No problem. But Sam? You really need to get here as fast as you can. Whatever head space he's crawled into, it's not good."  
"I'll be there as soon as I can. See you soon."  
"You, too, Sam."

After far too long spent caged in various trains, buses, and taxis, Sam finally arrived at Blaine's building. He was buzzed into the building, and he took the stairs rather than wait for the elevator. Knocking on the door, he wasn't sure what he'd find on the other side. A bunny slippers-clad Ryder dressed in his pajamas was not on that list, though.  
"Ryder, what's going on?"  
"We decided it might be best if we had a slumber party for Finn and Sam, watching some movies and stuff. We figured if Blaine could be with the kids for a bit, it would help."  
"Who's we?"  
"Me, Artie, Kitty, and Santana."  
Sam shook his head in disbelief. "Still can't believe she's here."  
"That makes two of us."  
"But more importantly: did it help?"  
"A bit. It seemed he was on autopilot, though. Just going through the motions. Whatever happened, he's still there."  
"Alright, let me see what I can do." He walked into the living room and found the surreal site of a bunch of late twenty-somethings behaving as if they were eight years old once more. But the sight of his best friend without the characteristic light and animation in his eyes, staring off into space, neither seeing nor caring about the world around him, awoke a host of emotions in Sam. Sadness, concern, anger, and a desire to help Blaine as well as exact revenge on whatever or whomever was responsible for reducing Blaine to this shell of his usual self. He finally knelt down in front of his best friend, and looked him directly in the eyes, desperately hoping to break through.  
"Blaine?"  
Sam saw a small crack in the thousand-yard stare. "Sam? Is that really you?" he asked for the second time that night.  
"Yep. I'm here now, B, and I'm not going anywhere."  
"Thank you," whispered Blaine, before he finally broke down, sobbing as he lunged forward, clinging to Sam like a koala. He turned to the others "I'm going to take him to his room so we can talk. I'm sure he'd be fine with you staying, but please don't barge in. He's not going to be able to tell me anything if he thinks you're eavesdropping."  
"Don't worry, we'll leave you two alone," said Artie, glaring at Kitty and Santana. The latter scoffed.  
"Stop staring at me like that, Artie. No way am I going to bring up anything right now. This is about helping Blaine."  
"Thanks, Santana. Now I'm going to try do exactly that." He stood up and, without letting go of his best friend, headed towards Blaine's bedroom. As he got near the door, however, he heard a whisper in his ear. "No, not here. Not here. Your room. Please, Sam." So Sam changed course and headed to the spare bedroom he used whenever he visited, and set Blaine down on the bed, tucking him in before stripping down to his t-shirt and boxer briefs and climbing in behind him. He turned out the lights, and then tugged his best friend toward him, trying to reassure him through physical contact.  
"Blaine, I'm here. Talk to me. What's wrong?"  
"I—I can't."  
"It'll be fine, Blaine, I promise you. Whatever caused this, we'll fix it."  
After seemingly an eternity had passed, Sam finally heard Blaine. "He's gone, Sam. He packed up his things while we were at the park and left. Kurt's left me."


	10. Decisions, Decisions, Part I

EARLY JUNE 2023 (The next day)

Sam slowly lumbered his way toward Blaine's kitchen, exhausted after a long night spent holding on to his best friend while he narrated the events of recent months leading up to last night. While he couldn't take away the pain, he could at least be there for his friend. Unfortunately, that didn't make facing the world on four—no, make that three—hours of sleep any easier.  
It didn't process until he had pulled a mug from the cabinet above the coffee machine, poured himself a hefty cup, and started inhaling it that he was not alone in the kitchen.  
"Dude, are you OK? You look like death warmed over," asked Artie, his tone halfway between concerned and amused. He was seated next to Kitty and across from Santana at Blaine's dining table,  
"Seriously? I feel like it, too. But I need to get Finn and Sam's breakfast ready, and make sure that Blaine eats something—he tends to forget to eat when he's upset and then I forget to eat enough because I'm worried that he—"  
He interrupted his train of thought when strong arms grabbed him by the shoulders and steered him toward one of the vacant seats. "Don't worry, Sam, we've got it covered. We've already fed Finn and Sam and put them down for a nap. Your breakfast is on the stove right now, and we'll set some aside for Blaine for later. Now sit down, calm down, and eat."  
"Thanks, Ryder. And you too—all of you."  
"You don't have to thank us, Sam. We all saw Blaine last night, and we know whatever it is, it had to be serious," answered Kitty. "He looked like a six-year old who watched someone eat his puppy on live television."  
"Speaking of which—what's gotten the hobbit so riled up, Trouty? C'mon, spill. Inquiring minds want to know!" demanded Santana.  
"Santana! That's incredibly rude," hissed Artie, clearly embarrassed. However, he cleared his throat before turning to Sam and continuing, "but we certainly would appreciate any details you feel like sharing with us." Seeing Sam's skeptical gaze, he hurried on: "So we can better help Blaine, of course."  
"Right," offered Sam sarcastically. "Just so you can help. But he said I could tell you guys some of it, since it's going to come out soon enough anyway."  
"So what did Lady Hummel do now?" asked Santana.  
"As you guessed, Santana, it does have to do with Kurt. Basically, he moved out yesterday."  
Four pairs of bugged-out eyes turned toward Sam simultaneously. "WHAT?" screamed Santana. "Why that little—"  
"Calm down, Santana. Blaine's still sleeping," admonished Sam.  
"So while we were at the park . . ." wondered Ryder.  
"Kurt was back here packing up and planning his great escape," confirmed Sam.  
"But why? What would make him leave when they've been together for so long."  
"He's not really sure, but lately they've mainly been fighting about two things."  
"Which are?" blurted out Santana like the proud gossipmonger she was.  
"Well, the bigger issue was Kurt's refusal to live up to their bargain about raising Finn and Sam."  
"Bargain?" asked Ryder.  
"Yeah, they made a deal before Rachel had them, that Blaine would stay home for the first two years, and then Kurt would take over for the next two, until the kids went to preschool. Blaine held up his end of the bargain and then some, but every time he wanted to discuss going back to work, Kurt kept putting off the discussion. Then a few weeks ago he announces out of the blue that he's gotten a starring role in a Broadway show, and that under no circumstances would he turn down the part, end of story."  
Artie piped in, "Blaine must have been angry."  
"You have no idea. He just wanted to discuss with Kurt what he was doing, taking a new role when he agreed he would stay home, but Kurt wouldn't have any part of it. He'd scream at Blaine about not being supportive enough, and trying to derail his career, and how he was tired of being in Blaine's shadow all the time."  
"Didn't they have that same argument junior year?" remembered Santana.  
"Yep, but this time it was a knock-out, take-no-prisoners kind of fight."  
"And that was enough to make Kurt leave?"  
"I guess he figured that was the only way he could show Blaine he was serious about not staying at home."  
"That is truly messed up, yo'," offered Artie.  
"No kidding," was Kitty's response. "But what is Blaine going to do now?"  
"What do you mean?" answered Sam.  
Santana jumped in. "What Kitty means is how is Blaine going to raise Finn and Sam by himself when the only breadwinner in the household just went AWOL." Looking at Sam's panic-stricken face, she continued. "Don't worry about it, Sam. You needed to deal with Blaine's meltdown last night. Nobody expects you to have everything figured out by now.  
"But the first thing Blaine is going to do when he wakes up is get himself a good lawyer so he can make sure Kurt pays for what he's done."  
"And how's he going to pay for a lawyer when he has to worry about rent and feeding his kids?" wondered Ryder.  
"Well, luckily for him, Auntie Tana's mom is a lawyer, and she has a lot of contacts here in New York. She'll get him someone good who's willing to work pro bono until there's a settlement."  
"You'd do that for Blaine?" asked Sam. "That's awesome."  
"No, I'm not doing it for the hobbit. I'm doing it for his kids. Nobody should have to go through the hell that Kurt's about to put them through. We'll make sure Kurt pays for what he's done."  
"I appreciate that, Santana, but I don't think Blaine would want revenge, even if he could get it. That's just not the kind of guy he is. I'm pretty sure all he wants is to make sure he can provide for his kids no matter what."  
"Thanks for helping Blaine to find a lawyer, but can we stick to that for now, until we can figure out what to do next."  
"Sure," said Santana.  
"Good. Now I'm going to take this breakfast into Blaine and make sure he doesn't starve himself to death while he's pining." With that, Sam grabbed the tray of food Ryder had prepared and took it with him to the bedroom.  
After they heard the door close, Santana turned to the other people gathered around the table. "Sam's right, that's what Blaine would want."  
"But," threw out Ryder, pretty sure a plan was brewing.  
"If Blaine doesn't push back hard, Kurt's going to think he can keep getting away with this, and he'll never change," reasoned Kitty, echoing Santana's thoughts. "We're going to have to see to it ourselves that Kurt is held accountable."  
"But how are you going to hide this plot from Sam and Blaine? Eventually they're going to figure it out—they're too smart not to."  
"We're just going to have to move quickly, and keep things on the down low," said Artie conspiratorially. "Better to seek forgiveness than permission, and all that."  
"So I guess we're really doing this?"  
"Definitely," said Kitty, a menacing grin breaking across her face. "Start thinking about who you know who can help out, but keep it quiet. Make sure you can trust them to not to talk about it, whether or not they help out."  
"But yes, Operation Vengeance is officially a go."


	11. Decisions, Decisions, Part II

EARLY JUNE 2023

Blaine slowly awoke and began stretching his sleepiness and fatigue away. He was nearly fully alert when the door opened, admitting Sam into the room with a tray.  
"Morning, B. How're you feeling?"  
"Like I don't know whether I want to cry or scream or crawl into a hole and never be seen again."  
"I know it hurts, but you're going to have to just take it one day at a time. And in the meanwhile, you need to stay strong. If not for yourself, then for Finn and Sam."  
"Wait—who's taking care of them right now?"  
"Ryder and Santana were looking after them last night, and Kitty and Artie are gonna come back and help until the afternoon. After that it's up to us—we're going to have take care of them ourselves."  
"But how, Sam? How am I going to do it? I can't do this alone, Sam! I'm supposed to be a single dad and raise two kids? How? I don't have a job, I don't have a sitter, I can't make this work, Sam!"  
Sam rushed to his best friend's side to calm him down. "Slow down. The first thing you're going to have to do is stop panicking, because the best way to make a mistake you're going to regret is to rush into a judgment when you're overly emotional. Right now, that's you."  
"But what am I supposed to do about Finn and Sam? They need someone to look after them all the time, and how can I work and take care of them? And how am I going to get a job if I can't afford a babysitter? It's all so hopeless, Sam."  
"Stop, Blaine! Take a breather. This is exactly what I mean. You can't work yourself up like this! So the first thing you need to know is that you're not going to have to go through this alone. Ever."  
"Sam. What are you trying to say?"  
"I'm telling you that I'm not leaving you to go through this alone."  
"But what about your job, Sam?"  
"Well, right now, it's summer vacation. So I don't have any commitments to deal for another two months or so. And I have some ideas I can try to stay a little bit longer."  
"Sammy, it's amazing that you'd be willing to do this for me."  
"It's the least I can do for my best bud, Blaine."  
Just then, Sam's phone buzzed. He took out his phone, and saw that he had a text from Unique: _Kurt's playing dirty. Changed FB profile, accusing B of cheating on him—with you_.  
Shortly after that, his phone started buzzing, and buzzing, and buzzing. Around the same moment, Blaine's phone also began to beep and chime. Looking quickly through the headers of the messages—"WTF?", "How could you?!", "This is a joke, right?"—Sam realized that he needed to take quick action before things spiraled completely out of control, and sink Blaine back into his depression. Sam slipped Blaine's phone off the counter and shut it off before turning back to his friend.  
"Hey, how about we forget the world today and have a Harry Potter marathon, just like we used to back in high school?"  
"Right now? That sounds perfect."  
As Blaine got up and dressed, Sam fired off a quick reply: _Thanks for the warning. You should talk with Kitty and Santana. They're planning something. You can probably help._

THE NEXT DAY

Sam called his boss back at McKinley. There was no answer, so he left a message: "Hey, Will. I'm in New York right now with Blaine and his kids. They're going to need me to stick around for a while, so I'm going to need to take you up on that offer you made last week. And there's one more thing I need to talk to you about. So give me a call when you get a chance. Thanks."

END OF JUNE 2023

Sam had just finished putting Finn and Sam down for a nap after having had their lunch and playtime. Blaine was off at a job interview—or maybe it was an audition, Sam wasn't really sure anymore. Just as he was about to start up his laptop, the door opened up suddenly, and Blaine burst into the room and threw himself at his best friend. Sam barely had a chance to put down his laptop before he was confronted with an armful and lapful of Blaine. That in and of itself wasn't exactly new.  
However, Blaine trying to start a make-out session with Sam? That was new. Although Sam was definitely looking forward to being able to take further steps in his relationship with Blaine, he did not want to be mauled when clearly something was wrong with his best friend. He reluctantly pushed Blaine off of his lap and sat him down next to him.  
"What's wrong, Blaine."  
"Nothing. Just make me yours, Sam. Make me forget."  
"Uh-uh. Not when you're like this."  
"Like what? You need to help me forget that Kurt never existed."  
"Ok. Stop right there, B. Clearly something's happened, and I'm not going to have our first time be when you're angry like this. When it happens, it'll be because we both want it. But not like this, B. Not right now. So talk. What's got you so pissed off?"  
After several sobs from Blaine, he finally started talking. "I saw him today, Sam. Kurt. He was walking down the street, hand in hand, with some other guy, smiling and laughing. It hasn't even been a month, Sam, and he's already moving on as if the last twelve years of our lives meant nothing. How could he just get on with things like that? Can he just turn off his feelings for me and our family like it was a switch? How could he do this to me, Sam?"  
"I really don't know why he's acting like such a self-centered jerk. But I do know that you can let this get to you. You're going to see him around town—at least if you stick around here. And I think you're going to see a lot more of him since he's going to be starring in a musical. So you have to find a way to forget about this, or else it's going to drive you mad."  
"But what do I do, Sam? How do I shut that door? It's my entire adult life we're talking about here."  
"I don't have an answer for you, Blaine. You're just going to have to find something else."  
"Why can't that be us?"  
"Because you're still hung up on Kurt, and I'm not going to be your rebound relationship. That's not fair to either of us in the long run."  
"Dammit, Sam. I wish you didn't have to be so calm and rational about this."  
"But I know I'm right, at least this time."  
"Yeah, you are. And thank you for not letting me ruin something special between us."  
"You're welcome, Blaine. Always and forever."

JULY 2, 2023

Unique answered her phone. "Hi, Kitty."  
"Hi, Unique. Did you see my email?"  
"Oh, yes. It was most . . . intriguing. Are you sure it's real?"  
"Do you think I'd send it to you if I thought it was a fake?"  
"Point taken. But if this is true, then we might not need to lift a finger to get our revenge."  
"Are you kidding, Kitty? We're just getting started. . . ."


	12. The Game's Afoot

JULY 12, 2023

"Thanks, Will. That's great news—and it means a lot to both of us. . . . Yes, I'll be sure to let him know. Talk to you soon."  
Blaine looked up from watching Sam and Finn to talk to Sam. "What was that all about? And what did Will want to tell me?"  
"Well, first off, he wanted to tell you that he's sorry about what happened, and that if you ever need someone to talk to, he's willing to help. Which may not be such a bad idea, all things considered. You both have lots of experience with crazy neurotic spouse, after all."  
"Sam," said Blaine pointedly. "Be nice."  
"All right, all right," apologized Sam. "But that's not the big news. Remember how I said I'd be able to stay until about the beginning of August."  
"Yeah. . . ."  
"Well, what would you say if I told you I might be able to stick around until the end of the year?"  
"What? You didn't tell Will you were resigning, did you?"  
"No, it's nothing like that. It's much better. April Rhodes gave a whole bunch more money to the school to endow a 'Holly Holliday Traveling Fellowship.' The funds support faculty to spend a semester away from campus on a creative endeavor. Guess who's going to be the first fellow?"  
"That's awesome, Sam. What are you going to do for your project?"  
"Well, that's where you come in."  
"Me? What do I have to do with this?"  
"Well, you're the reason I'm coming to New York. We're going to be writing and recording an album together!"  
"What! Sam! I'm not a songwriter!"  
"Calm down, B. And you're selling yourself short. You improvise a lot at the keyboard, so you can help with writing the melodies. And I figure we can both work on the arranging. The only thing left is the lyrics."  
"That's not an 'only thing,' Sam. That's like the biggest part of songwriting."  
"But what if we use some existing sources? Hymns and poems and stuff like that Adam Guitar guy did."  
"You mean Adam Guettel."  
"Yeah, him. You played that album for me once. It was cool."  
"That could work. We'd just have to figure out what the album would be about."  
"I thought we could use this album as a kind of 'musical therapy' for you—work out all your emotions about the break-up and all that."  
"I don't know, Sam. That's awfully personal. I don't know if I could share that with the world."  
"Yeah, but that's the thing. It doesn't really have to be about you. We could invent a couple—like Dave and Sarah, or something—and have it be their story. C'mon, what do you say? You know it'd be a lot of fun. And I can't imagine who else I'd want to do something like this."  
"Okay, Sam. Let's do this. Besides, worst case scenario, we can call Marley to help bail us out if we totally screw this up, right?"  
Sam's face lit up in a thousand-watt smile. "Absolutely."

JULY 17, 2023

Kitty, Unique, and Santana were holding a late-night strategy session and gossip fest via video chat.  
"So we're all in agreement—our goal right now is to keep Kurt in the production until opening night," said Unique, with nods from the other women. "But how exactly do we do that? It's not like we can force him to stay, right?"  
"That's easy—play to his insecurities," offered Santana. "We can start up a whisper campaign: let the word on the street say that the producers of the musical are worried about having cast a gay countertenor as the lead, and may have to recast the role to keep the show open. Once Kurt gets wind of that, he'll work overtime and a half to stay and prove everybody wrong. He'll be so busy with that he won't even notice all the other stuff going on around him."  
"Should be simple enough," said Kitty. "We each talk to the theater geeks we know, and let the rumor start spreading. But just be careful to make it be believable—let it have 'gone through' one or two of your friends, so it's more 'authentic.'" Kitty mimed the air quotes for emphasis.  
"But I think there's something else we can do. How about we play to his ego, too?"  
"It couldn't hurt," answered Santana. "What did you have in mind?"  
"Unique, could your computer science friends cook us up a fake fan forum website?"  
"Probably. I'll just have to bribe them enough. What do you want?"  
"Something tacky and over-the-top and ridiculously flattering. Like 'Fans of Broadway Star Kurt Hummel dot com' or something like that. Make it fully functional, and let him think he's interacting with his fans. Let him think he has an adoring public looking forward to his debut, and let him post on the forum to answer the fans' questions. Maybe he'll post enough information that we can get him to confess to some dirt."  
"Girl, I like the way you think," laughed Unique. "This will be so much fun. Let's make this happen!"

JULY 18, 2023

Sam was about to head out with Blaine and his sons to the library for story time when he received a text from an unlikely source.  
Rachel; Please call me asap. We need to talk about B&K.  
Sam called out to Blaine. "Hey, B. Can I meet up with you at the library? There's someone I need to call back."  
"Sure. Is it anything serious?"  
"I don't know. That/s why I need to call them."  
"OK, Sam. We'll meet you there. C'mon, guys! Let's go!" said Blaine as he led his sons out of the apartment.  
When the door had closed and a few more seconds had passed, Sam dialed up someone he hadn't spoke to in over a year. "What's up Rachel? Why are you calling me out of the blue after so long?"  
"I'm trying to understand why my best friend has turned into the world's biggest jerk in the last two months. He's brushing me off, and I can't ask Blaine, but I figured he might have talked to you about it."  
"You know I can't tell you what Blaine's told me in confidence, right?"  
"Of course. But I'm sure you've pieced together part of the puzzle on your own. He keeps saying that Blaine cheated on him, but he won't tell me anything about how he knows this."  
"Hmm. That's right, you're not on Facebook anymore."  
"What's that got to do with anything?"  
"Well, when everything first went down, he posted on his wall that he thought Blaine had cheated with, well, me."  
"With you? What? That's crazy! You're just friends!"  
"Well, you want to know what's crazier? He thinks it happened when Blaine left Les Mis to come to Ohio when I got hurt."  
"Are you kidding me?" screeched Rachel. "Does he not know what was going on during that trip?"  
"Either he doesn't know, or he simply doesn't care," said Sam. "But I don't think Blaine ever told him anything other than that he needs to talk to me about it, because it's my story to tell."  
"And of course he'd rather just not know so that he can claim he's the victim. As always," spat out Rachel in disbelief.  
"Yeah, that's Kurt for you. But maybe you can answer something for me."  
"If I can. What do you want to know?"  
"Who's the guy Kurt's hanging out with all the time now? It totally freaked Blaine out a few weeks ago when he saw them together."  
"That's Harris," said Rachel, putting extra attitude into the name. "He's the show's composer. Or so he claims."  
"Claims? Do you think he's pretending?"  
"I don't really know. He acts weird every time I'm around—actually, come to think of it, pretty much everybody working on the show is a little odd. And I mean relative to your usual Broadway standard. Something weird is going on with that production, but I can't figure out what. I tried to tell Kurt, but after everything he's done, he's convinced he has to stick with it and make it work."  
"Do you really blame him, Rachel? He walked out on his entire family just so he could take this role. He better hope he can make it work."  
"I guess."  
"Look, Rachel, I'd love to talk more. But I've got to go."  
"OK, but one more thing? You're staying with Blaine right now, aren't you?" That last part wasn't exactly a question.  
"Not much of a surprise, huh?"  
"Not really, no. I know you guys too well. There's no way you wouldn't be there if he needed you."  
"You're right."  
"Well, just look after him, all right? He needs all the help you can give him right now."  
"Don't worry. I'll take good care of him."  
"I know. But just don't rush too quickly into starting a relationship with him. He's not ready yet. He'll still be mourning the end of his relationship with Kurt."  
"Of course I'm not going to—wait. How did you know I wanted to date Blaine?"  
"Sam, you've been carrying a torch for Blaine for years. It's one of the many reasons we never worked out ourselves."  
"Does everybody know?"  
"No. Just the people who were paying attention to you two. Take care, Sam. Give Blaine my best, and let him know I'm still hoping everything works out for him. For both of you."  
"Thanks, Rachel. I'll talk to you soon, I hope. Don't be a stranger."  
"I won't, Sam. Bye."  
"Bye."


	13. The Final Coundown

OCTOBER 20, 2023

Sam was putting the final touches on "The Hero Across the Hall," the song both Blaine and he felt could be the tit;e track of their album, when the door opened and a smiling Blaine entered. This time, Sam thought, he could almost believe that the smile actually reached his best friend's eyes.  
"Hey, Sam, I've finally got a job!"  
"That's awesome! Where?"  
"I'll be working at the concerts office at Juilliard. I'll be helping to promote their guest artist concerts as well as their own ensembles."  
"That sounds like a lot of fun. When do you start?"  
"On Monday. It's just mornings right now, but they said it could be turned into a full-time position next year if I want."  
"That's awesome, dude." He strode over to where Blaine stood and wrapped his best friend in a bear hug. When he pulled away, though, he noticed Blaine's smile falter a bit. "Wait. You should be ecstatic. What's wrong."  
"Well, who's going to take care of Finn and Sam? There's no way I can afford daycare for two kids anywhere near Juilliard, Sam—at least not if I want to pay for rent and food. How am I going to do this alone? You've been amazing with helping out, Sam, and that's helped me more than you'll ever know. But I go to bed every night, and part of me worries what I'm going to do when you're back in Lima."  
"Blaine, what if I could do something about that?"  
"Are you talking about moving out here? No, Sam. I can't ask you to do that again—not when you already have a life in Lima."  
"Actually, I was thinking of you coming back with me to Lima."  
"How? And what would I do back in Lima? I can't just sit around and do nothing all day."  
"Well, at first, you wouldn't have to leave your kids—I know how important it is for you to be with them. But I do know that Brad's retiring at the end of the year, and we're going to need a replacement. Not just to accompany the choirs, but also to teach the improv and collaborative piano classes he was offering. Mr. Shue knows how good you are at both of those from your time at McKinley, so it would be an easy hire, especially since you have degrees in music and education."  
"And what about Finn and Sam? I don't just want to leave them in some day care facility all day. That's the whole reason Kurt walked out on me. I can't do that to them as well."  
"Well, actually, the district's been thinking about that, too. We've just opened up a day care center in the administrative building across the street. You'd be able to go and visit with them anytime you had a free period."  
"Huh. That could work." Sam could see the gears start turning in Blaine's head.  
"Wait, Blaine. You don't need to give me an answer just yet. We won't even announce the vacancy for another few months, so you can think about it for a while before making up your mind."  
"You're right, Sam. There's so much I need to think about—Finn and Sam's education, my Broadway dreams, and even you."  
"Me? Why?" asked Sam, incredulous.  
"Yes, you, Sam. These last few months have reminded me of how things used to be—and what I'd be giving up if I let you go. There's no way I can ignore that when I make up my mind. So, yeah, you're a part of this decision, too."  
"Thanks, Blaine. Just know that there's no pressure on you to say yes. If you need to stay here, that's cool, too. We'll make this work, Blaine. It's you and me against the world."  
"Nightbird and Blond Chameleon forever."  
"And always."

OCTOBER 24, 2023

Kurt entered his dressing room to find waiting on his chair a dozen long-stemmed roses, a box of chocolates, and a folded note with his name on the outside in a now-familiar script.  
"Dearest Kurt,  
"I give you these gifts both as an apology and as a thank you.  
"First, as an apology. Unfortunately, Jim and I were called away by the sponsors of our next big commission, a romantic comedy based on the Donner Party. They are concerned that we haven't yet submitted the first act and the synopsis of the rest of the play, which we promised to them two months ago. They've insisted that we now join them at their retreat in the Sierra Nevadas until the first act is done. Since they're also one of the major backers of your show, we felt it important to go. Unfortunately, that means we likely will have to miss your big debut, but I am not at all concerned.  
"And this is where my thank you comes in. I know you have been working long hours every day for months perfecting this role to the best of your abilities. I can sincerely say that none of what we're about to do would have been possible without your contribution. I'm sure that the audience on opening night will see the same potential and talent we saw at your first audition.  
"I promise you that in two weeks' time, your name will be on everybody's lips, and your place in the annals of Broadway history will be secure.  
"Break a leg, and I'll see you soon.  
"Yours, Harris."  
Kurt smiled at the thoughtful note and gifts his new boyfriend—and after last week, no other word was really accurate—had left for him. It was nice to be on the receiving end of flattery and devoted attention. He had missed that after the rocky last few years with Blaine.  
But turning his thoughts back to the show—where they needed to be right now—he had to admit that some things were still bothering him. Jim kept tinkering with the staging and sets. Just two days ago, he had ordered a large set of video walls installed all around the stage, saying the animals would be projected animations instead of live creatures. And then there was the weird choreography associated with the final number, "One Sleeve at a Time." It all made him very nervous, and unsure he could pull it off. But remembering everything he had gone through to get there, he had to see it through to the end. There was just no other choice. He had to make it work. Becoming a Broadway star was his lifelong ambition, and he couldn't give up now. Not when he was so close to seeing his biggest dream come true. His sacrifices for his art—the sign that he was becoming a true artist, not just a talentless hack—were too large for him to accept failure now.  
Besides, there were his fans to think about. Ever since he stumbled across that fan forum dedicated to him, he felt a certain kinship with them. Finally he found people who appreciated his work and talent. It felt good to "talk" with them online, and he found himself revealing far more about the creative process and his life than he ever thought he might. But having supporters who helped him to get over the Broadway buzz—that the show was going to be a flop—made powering through a bit easier.

OCTOBER 26, 2023

"Hey, Unique, my source came through! We've got the tickets for opening night. Do you want to come and see the carnage?"  
"Kitty, normally I'd be all over that, but maybe you should ask Sam and Blaine. I think I'd rather volunteer to hang out with their little babes."  
Kitty suspected more foul play was afoot. "Unique, what did you do?"  
"I didn't do anything. But I did find the person at the publishing company that's putting out the score, and bribed her to make a few small edits to the score."  
"Bribed her? With what?"  
"Well, she wanted a date with my friend Suzanne, and I figured it was the least I could do."  
"In exchange for what? What small edits?"  
"Just a few small changes to some clefs here and there. And maybe a key signature or two."  
"But won't the conductor notice?"  
"Nope. My source told me that he had to leave town before the premiere, and already approved the final score, and said everything was exactly as he wanted."  
Left town early? Interesting, thought Kitty. But turning her attention back to the conversation, she realized the implications of the decision. "Great. So that means the changes will look like it's exactly what he wanted, and no one will dare to question it, since it's 'new music,' and can get all edgy and crazy.  
"Should I bring earplugs to the premiere, then?"  
"It might not be a bad idea. Child, that pit orchestra is going to sound like a mess. Kurt will be lucky if he can stay on key."  
"Even better. Just a few more days to go."  
"Yep. Don't you love it when a plan comes together?"

OCTOBER 28, 2023

"I'll ask him. Mind if I call you back in a little bit?" A pause. "Thanks, Artie. Talk to you soon."  
"What did Artie want, Sam?"  
"Well, Unique scored some tickets to the premiere of Kurt's play. Kitty and Artie, and Santana and Brittany, and Ryder are already going. She offered to let us have her tickets, and she'd babysit for us."  
"Huh. What do you think? Should we go?"  
"That's up to you, B. He's your ex. And don't forget the word on the street: this is going to be a flop. So there's a couple of ways we could do this."  
"And those are?"  
"One, we can pretend to be the bigger people, and allegedly be there to support Kurt in his endeavors, despite the crap he put you through the last few months."  
"And the other?"  
"We can go and play Statler and Waldorf all night and mock the show relentlessly, just like everybody would think we'd do."  
Blaine laughed at this. "I like the way you think, Sam Evans. Besides, I really do want to see what Kurt thought was so crucial for his career that he was willing to leave his family behind."  
"Sounds like you're on board, then. I'll let Artie know."

OCTOBER 31, 2023 (Opening night)

Kurt stared at his reflection in the dressing room mirror, waiting for the call to go on stage. In those last few moments, his heart was beating overtime, he could feel beads of sweat forming on his forehead, and the butterflies in his stomach were threatening to explode out like the creatures from Aliens. (Dammit, he had spent too much time around Sam and Blaine. But now's not the time to think about them. This is his moment.)  
So he did what he did before just about every stage experience he had ever had: he reminded himself of what he was about to do.  
"You are Kurt Hummel. You are going to go out on that stage and be brilliant. Your audience is going to love you, and you'll have a standing ovation at the end of the night, and tomorrow morning, you will be the next big Broadway star. So enjoy every moment. It's your night to shine."  
A knock came at the door. "One minute, Mr. Hummel."  
"One minute. Thank you." He took a deep breath, gave the biggest smile he could, and started to head out the door.  
"It's showtime!"


	14. Reckonings, Part I

OCTOBER 31-NOVEMBER 1, 2023

Sam and Blaine were sitting on Blaine's living room couch, looking dazed and confused, with similar looks from Artie, Kitty, Santana, and Brittany. Ryder was in even worse shape, apparently catatonic since they left the theater; he hadn't said a word in the last two hours.  
Finally, he broke his silence. "Can I take the blue pill, please?" as he drew his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them with a panic-stricken look on his face. "Seriously, how do I forget what I just saw?"  
"If we figure that out, we'll let you know," said Artie.  
"The alcohol will help," said a clearly buzzed Kitty. "Give me another, Unique," she said, holding out her glass for the evening's designated bartender.  
"Yes, but not much. You'd die of alcohol poisoning long before you'd forget what we saw tonight," said Blaine, looking very sorrowful at the realization.  
"Still sounds worth a try to me," said the normally unruffled Santana, who was trying to soothe Brittany's nerves. "All those poor animals" had been the last thing Brittany had said as they walked out of the theater.  
"I can't believe that, though. After staging that intervention for Rachel at NYADA when she wanted to do that stupid student film, he goes and . . ."  
"Please, for the love of everything holy, do not finish that sentence, Santana," begged Ryder.  
"Well, all I can say is that based on your reactions, the reviews should be absolutely epic," said Unique. "Actually, it looks like the Variety review's been posted." She took a quick look through the article. "Wow. This one doesn't hold anything back."  
"Go ahead, Unique, and share with the class. You clearly want to," said Sam, resigning himself to having to relive the experience, at least indirectly. The other playgoers in the room groaned slightly, coming to the same conclusion.  
"Since you insist. . . ."

"101 Dalmatians": Making the Case for Euthanasia  
By Ron Chauttee for Variety

Let us not mince words: 101 Dalmatians, the new musical that opened last night, is by far the worst production to have opened in the 21st century. The entire repellent and repulsive evening was a case study in how not to put together a Broadway musical, and, with any luck, will end the careers of the principals involved in this train wreck of a show. (In fact, train wreck is far too polite a description.)  
The stunned silence as the audience left the theater after the final curtain said as much about this production than any written review possibly could. The entire show needs to be nuked from orbit, as that would be the only way to ensure nothing survives. But in the interests of thoroughness, a few comments must be made.  
First, the actual material itself must be criticized. The original tale was a delightfully ridiculous yarn showing the power of parental love, and how it can extend to the children of others, when need demands. To turn this into something resembling the "revenge porn" of a Quentin Tarantino film is to pervert and distort the meaning of "family entertainment," which is what the musical's producers ludicrously described the evening as.  
Moreover, the decision to make Cruella descend into madness in the musical's final half-hour leads to one of the most despicable moments ever presented on Broadway. As Cruella describes the doting and loving attention she would lavish on her newly collected puppies, we are presented with horrific tableaus showing the puppies' actual treatment. (The producers should expect to be sued for animal cruelty as well as emotional trauma by any number of upset parents on behalf of their traumatized children any moment now.) If that were not bad enough, the musical ends with "One Sleeve at a Time," with a completely unnecessary and uncalled for reenactment of the Dance of the Seven Veils from Richard Strauss's Salome. Never has full frontal nudity been so thoroughly unnecessary or as unwanted as it is here.  
The musical side of the production fares little better. The songs, written by first-time composer Harris Davidson, are tedious and uninspiring, and the orchestration was at times bordering on cacophony. The only redeeming feature was that the orchestra was often loud enough to drown out Cruella's lyrics, as sung by the countertenor who portrays her. (If, in fifty years' time, countertenors are still complaining that they are underrepresented on Broadway, this musical will be "exhibit A" for the defendants.)  
Since the script makes Cruella the only major character in the proceedings, as the canine parents have been stripped of their ability to speak (and are, like their children, instead shown only on the video screens surrounding the stage), the role should have been cast with extreme care. In spite of all of the other fatal shortcomings of the production, something might still have been rescued if a suitably talented actress, such as a Rachel Berry or Mercedes Jones, had been cast as Cruella. Instead, the entire enterprise was placed on the thoroughly incapable shoulders of Kurt Hummel. The producers of Dalmatians launched a season-long, multi-million-dollar ad campaign to convince audiences that Mr. Hummel was "the new face of Broadway." If this is indeed the case, then Broadway should shut its doors and head into retirement, for its future is doomed. The last time New York saw such an overestimation of actual talent, Florence Foster Jenkins was performing at Carnegie Hall.  
Mr. Hummel's acting was leaden and one-dimensional, with an emotional range spanning everything from smarmy to smug. His line deliveries were cloying and so patronizing that listeners wanted to defenestrate somebody from the theater. The only question was who: themselves or Mr. Hummel. The only thing worse than his acting was his singing: in trying to emulate a rock tenor, he ended up screaming instead of actually singing, and produced a sound offensive to the ears that the audience probably was yearning for earplugs halfway through the play's single act. While it is theoretically possible that some of the problems could be the fault of bad decisions by the producer-director James Smithers, Mr. Hummel's performance was so awful that it earns no benefit of the doubt whatsoever. Future Broadway producers and casting directors should be on notice not to make the mistake made here.  
The biggest travesty of this musical is that it has squandered so much useful theater space, money, talent, and labor that could have been more profitably used on other causes and other productions. For instance, Marley Rose's The End of the Tunnel, which debuted to rave reviews in Los Angeles two years ago, still awaits its first production in New York. A fraction of the budget lavished—and wasted—on this show could have brought that infinitely more rewarding experience to theatergoers.  
This play is an embarrassment to everyone involved in bringing it to the stage. The only people to feel sorry for are the union crew and musicians who did not have a say in the production and will likely find themselves looking for work in the next few days.  
All in all, though, I hope we can soon bid good riddance to this bad rubbish of a production.

"Oh, snap," said Kitty when Unique had finished reading. "That's going to leave a mark."  
"I wonder if Kurt will turn to his fans for consolation and reassurance," wondered Santana out loud, the snark in her tone self-evident. "Is part two of our plan ready to go."  
"Oh, yeah," said Unique, "he'll be getting quite the surprise next time he logs in."  
"What are you three going on about? What website, and why do you have something to do with it?"  
"Oh, nothing. Just pretend we didn't say anything," suggested Santana.  
"Consider it plausible deniability—if we don't tell you, you can honestly say you don't know," suggested Kitty with the smoothness of a politician. "All you guys need to know is the there are a group of your friends who believe Kurt has been getting away scot-free with doing whatever he wants for far too long, and are going to do their damnedest to ensure that he doesn't get away with it this time."  
Sam and Blaine looked at each other for a fraction of a second, then broke out into huge grins as they said simultaneously, "Kurt's doomed."  
"Yup," said Kitty, a glint in her eye.


	15. Reckonings, Part II

NOVEMBER 1, 2023

Kurt gathered up all of the newspapers in the living room into a single pile before dumping them into the small recycling bin in his kitchen. That had been a colossal waste of both time and money. He had planned to hold onto the papers as commemorative memorabilia of his triumphant Broadway debut, but now they served only to mock him. Twenty-three reviews, and not a single nice thing about him or the performance in any of them. That must be a first—every Broadway reviewer in agreement, thought Kurt bitterly.  
He'd deal with reporters, and friends and family, and all the other people in his life soon enough. But first he had to tend to his fans—they had stuck with him through this whole process, and they at least deserved to know the truth about what had happened last night. He logged into the fan site he'd been visiting in recent months, and navigated his way to the forum. He was disturbed to find that the thriving online community he had participated in seemed to have vanished into the ethernet, and now only a single page was left, entitled "The Truth about Kurt Hummel." He clicked on the link, and started reading with dread. His heart dropped into his stomach as he continued reading and realized what had happened.  
Great, just great, thought Kurt. Can this day get any worse?  
At just that moment, his phone began to ring. The caller was about to prove that Kurt's question is one that should never be asked, as the answer is almost invariably "yes."

NOVEMBER 2, 2023

Santana Lopez was walking home from her latest commercial shoot when her phone began buzzing in her purse."Santana Lopez"  
"Hey, Santana."  
"Hi, Unique. Good job with the web site. Kurt was furious when he found out that it was all a con."  
"What can I say? My friends do good work."  
"But to keep it up for so long? Didn't they get bored of it?"  
"That's the best part. After a day, they were just as sick of his attitude as the rest of us. So they created an AI-bot to pretend to be all the other users. His 'fans' were fabricated by a computer program."  
"That's awesome. But it sounds like you had something else. What is it?"  
"I just heard from my friend who works at the box office at the theater where Dalmatians is playing. Or maybe I should say, was playing."  
"Past tense? You don't mean. . . ."  
"Yep! They pulled the plug on the show. After just one performance!"  
"That's crazy. Why would they do that? With all the bad reviews, you'd think it'd gain popularity as a camp classic."  
"But that's just it. It's not so bad it's good. It's just plain awful. Nobody wants to see it. There have already been so many ticket cancellation orders that the producers don't think they'll be able to turn a profit, so they killed it."  
"After one performance, though? That must be some sort of a Broadway record."  
"Unless they stopped a show in the middle of its premiere."  
"You know, that wouldn't have been such a bad idea for Dalmatians. Would have saved a whole lot of time."  
"Sorry you had to endure that. I'll make it up to you sometime soon. We'll do a ladies' night. Just us girls, some alcohol, and a whole lot of gossip."  
"Looking forward to it. Let's talk more soon—right now, I've got a lunch date with Brit."  
"Sounds good. Give Brittany my love."  
"Will do. Bye."  
"Bye, Santana."

NOVEMBER 5, 2023

Sam had just finished sharing with a clearly disinterested Finn and Sam reason 67 on his list of "The Top 100 Reasons Why Captain America Is Better Than Iron Man" when he heard a key jiggling the lock and saw the door swing open, although no one came in.  
"Hey, Sam."  
"Hey, Blaine. You coming in?"  
"Yeah, but could you give me a hand? I've got some stuff to bring inside."  
Sam went to the door and peeked outside into the hallway, where he saw Blaine grappling with several large bundles of cardboard wrapped together with plastic bindings. He took a bundle out of Blaine's hands and dragged it into the living room. "Are these packing cartons?"  
"Yep. I've been thinking a lot about what you said, Sam. You're right. Finn and Sam are too much for me to handle by myself in New York—at least right now. There's no way I'd be able to give them what they deserve right now if I have to work two or three jobs to make ends meet. So I'm going to move back to Ohio. That way I can look after them, and I'll have time to actually be with them. I can't give that up, not after everything I've already been through, Sam."  
"But what about New York? What about Broadway? I don't want you to have to give up your dreams so quickly!"  
"I haven't given up on Broadway, Sam. But I also realize that I can't just focus on my dreams. I have to think about my family, too. At least for now."  
"So does that mean you'll come back someday?"  
"Probably, yeah, when the time is right. When Finn and Sam are older, and can get around by themselves. Or maybe when they're off to college. I don't know when, but something inside me tells me I'm not done with New York. This isn't 'goodbye,' Sam. It's just 'see you later.'"  
"I guess I can live with that."  
"Good to know that my plan has the 'Sam Evans seal of approval,'" said Blaine with a toothy grin.  
"Hey, I wouldn't sign off on it if it wasn't awesome," retorted Sam.  
"Indeed," nodded Blaine. "But there's one more thing," he said as he reached into his pocket for his keychain, and held up one slender key in particular. "Someone told me this key would always be good. Does the offer still hold?"  
Sam rubbed his hand through the back of his hair, looking somewhat sheepish. "Um, about that, Blaine. . . ."  
"No, I get it, Sam. You don't have to say anything. I understand you don't want us getting in the way. I can stay with my folks, I guess."  
"Wait, Blaine! Please don't think I don't want you around! You're always welcome to stay with me."  
"Then why did you look so guilty when I brought up the key?"  
"Because that key won't work anymore. The manufacturer recalled the lock because of a manufacturing snafu, so I had to replace the lock. I've had the new key with me since I got here, but I never got the chance to give it to you." He pulled out his own keychain, removed a key, and handed it to Blaine. "This one should work just fine."  
"Sam, thank you so very much. You've helped me more than you'll ever know. I couldn't do this without you."  
"No thanks necessary, Blaine. Now c'mere and give me a best bro hug!"  
Blaine could hardly resist the invitation, and crossed over to where Sam stood with outstretched arms. He wrapped his arms around his best friend and nestled his head into the crook of Sam's shoulder—where it felt like it always belonged. They held on to each other for a few moments when Blaine's phone began to ring. Blaine reluctantly let go of Sam to answer.  
"Hello? . . . Yes? . . . You do? . . . When? . . . No, how about tomorrow night? . . . Okay, I guess 8:00 works. See you then. . . . Bye." Blaine hung up and put his phone back in his pocket.  
Sam couldn't help but notice his best friend's shocked expression. "Blaine, what's wrong? Who was that?"  
"That was Kurt. He finally wants to talk."


	16. Moving On

**AN.** Warning: All is not as it seems.

NOVEMBER 4, 2023

"You've got to be joking me!" exclaimed Kitty in disbelief. "This sounds like something out of a bad _telenovela_. No offense, Santana."  
"None taken, Kitty, but only because you're right. This is absolutely insane. But I think it's more like a movie that got made into a musical and then had the musical get made into its own movie. Ring any bells?"  
"Totally," said Unique. "But you'd think nobody would have the guts to pull it off and think they could get away with it."  
"Well, they might have, if they hadn't sent so many emails and text messages congratulating themselves for having pulled it off."  
"Ewwww," said Kitty.  
"What?" chorused Unique and Santana together.  
"Do you think Harris and Kurt were dating so that. . . ." She left the thought dangling, but the implications were clear.  
"Wow. That would make a lot of sense, actually. But I guess there's only one way to find out."  
"What's that?"  
"Leak it to the press and watch Lady Hummel's reaction."  
"I'm so going to miss this when it's over," avowed Unique. "It's been so much fun working with you gals."

DECEMBER 20, 2023

Sam tugged at the collar of his tuxedo shirt. Only Blaine could get me to dress up in a penguin suit like this, he thought. He couldn't understand why he was being invited to some fancy high-society party at a downtown hotel, or why the invitation came with a handwritten note from his best friend saying Meet me on the roof deck at midnight. Whatever the reason, though, Sam needed to find out, which was why he was trundling towards the hotel through a bitterly cold wind.  
Reaching the lobby, he handed the doorman standing by the elevator his invitation, and then took the elevator to the penthouse level. The doors let him out into the most grandiose show of luxury and excess he had ever seen. He was sure some of the dresses on display cost more than his house in Lima. But he barely gave any of them more than a passing glance, because he had a much more important quarry. As it was nearly midnight, he made his way over to the corner of the ballroom, and took the staircase up to the roof deck. The deck was laid out in a winter wonderland theme, but was deserted because of the late-night chill. He decided to take an opportunity to get one last look at the New York skyline before he left town. A moment or two later, he heard someone else step out on to the deck.  
"Sam."  
Sam turned around and looked at Blaine, and saw him look even more dapper than he ever imagined possible.  
"Blaine. Wow, you look amazing."  
"So do you. Thanks for coming."  
"How could I resist the engraved invitation and cryptic note from you?"  
"I'm sorry, Sam. I just didn't know how else to do it."  
"What? Invite me to the party, or just talk to your best friend again?"  
"Sam. Please don't make this any harder than it has to be."  
"Why does any of this have to be hard, Blaine? Nothing about our friendship has ever been complicated. So why start now? Are you OK? You're not dying, are you?"  
"No, Sam. Stop. I'm fine."  
"You're sure?"  
"100 percent, Sam. That's not it. It's because I'm leaving, Sam."  
"What? Where? When? Why?" Sam asked in disbelief, before the obvious solution struck. "This is Kurt's doing."  
"Sam. . . ."  
"No. This isn't right, Blaine. You're letting him control you again."  
"We've talked, Sam. He's still the other father of my children. He wants to have a fresh start, and I owe it to him to find out if we can actually make it work again."  
"But why are you leaving then?"  
"Kurt's gotten a promotion to the Paris office of Vogue. He'll be the assistant editor there."  
"And so you're just going to drop everything and go with him? And what are you going to do there? And what happens if all of a sudden he decides he's gotten tired of being married again and walks out on you?"  
"That's not fair, Sam. He's apologized."  
"And that's enough, Blaine? Every time you're together, he kicks you out or he walks out on you. And you think it's going to be different this time just because he says he's sorry and never, ever, ever going to do it again? This is crazy, and you know it."  
"You're right. It's crazy, and I'm still not sure if I'm doing the right thing. But I can't be the one to end it. I can't."  
"And so you're giving up your entire life on the hopes that it's going to be different this time? Giving up on your friends? Giving up on us?"  
"We'll still be friends, Sam. That won't change. Never."  
"It's hard enough when you're here in New York and I'm in Lima. How won't that change when you're four thousand miles away, Blaine? I'd like to think it won't, but I'm not stupid. Kurt's won, and he's finally getting everything he wants: you away from me."  
"That's crazy, Sam."  
"Is it, Blaine? He's used that as the excuse for walking out on you last time. Okay, okay, one of the excuses. But that doesn't change the fact he hates the idea that we're so close. It scares him, and you know it."  
"So what do you want me to do, Sam?"  
"What you said you were going to do. Come back with me. Come with me to Lima. We can start over there, and we can be together. And, someday, we can come back here. You need to leave the drama in the past. Our future is together, Blaine. I love you. You know that, right?"  
"Yes, Sam. I want to be able to be with you, but I can't. You know that, too."  
"Then why do you have to hold onto vows that Kurt's already broken, Blaine?"  
"Sam."  
"Look, you want me to drop this, then be honest with me about one thing. Tell me you'd rather be with Kurt than with me, and I'll let you go."  
"I can't, Sam. You know that better than anyone."  
"Then come with me, Blaine!"  
"Sam, I have to do this. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry, Sam. I love you so much, but I can't."  
"You can, Blaine. You can't just throw us away like this!"  
"I'm sorry. Goodbye, Sam." Blaine ran off the deck in tears.  
"Blaine, no!" Sam collapsed against the railings surrounding the deck, lost in his own sadness, waiting for his own tears to fall.

NOVEMBER 6, 2023 (Early morning)

Blaine heard shouting coming from the living room, where Sam had apparently fallen asleep on the couch. He rushed over to his angst-ridden friend, and shook him awake. "Sam! Are you OK?"  
"No, Blaine, I'm really not OK."  
"What's wrong?"  
"We need to talk about you meeting with Kurt." 


End file.
